Columbia  Winihttsiitv 
mtt)eCitpofiaeto§orfe 


LIBRARY 


GIVEN  BY 


W/.  c  e>-<|e^ 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY 
II. 

THE    MONUMENTS   {continued) 
BEFORE   AND   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION 


HISTORICAL    MEMORIALS 


OF 


WESTMl'NSTEr  ABBEY 


ARTHUR    PENRHYN    STANLEY,    D.D. 

ILate  Qtan  of  JUEestminstit 

CORRESPONDING    MEMBER   OF    THE    INSTITUTE   OF    FRANCE 


JEIlustratrt  EtJttion 


VOLUME    IL 

THE    MONUMENTS    (continued) 
BEFORE  AND   SINCE  THE   REFORMATION 


NEW    YORK 
ANSON    D.   F.  RANDOLPH   &   COMPANY 

(incorporated) 
182    Fifth    Aven  u  e 


John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


33  X  '  0^'^ 


V 


.X 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   JY.— (continued.) 

THE      MONUMENTS. 

The  Modern  Statesmen,  1.  —  The  North  Transept:  Lord  Chatham 
(May  11,  1778),  3.  — Lord  Mansfield  (1793),  5;  Follett  (1845), 
5. —Pitt  (1806),  5.  — Fox  (1806),  5.  The  Whigs' Corner:  Per- 
ceval (1812),  Grattan  (1820),  Tierney  (1830),  Maeiiintosh  (1832), 
Lord  Holland  (1840),  7.  —  Castlereagh  (1822),  Canning  (1827), 
Peel  (1850),  9,  10.  —  Palmerston  (1865),  10.  — Cornewall  Lewis 
(1863),  Cobden  (1865),  12 

Indian  Statesmen:  —  Staunton  (1801),  Warren  Hastings  (1818), 
Malcolm  (1833),  Raffles  (1826),  Lord  Canning  (1862),  10,  11 

Philanthropists  :  —  Han  way,  Granville,  Sharp,  Zachary  Macaulay, 
Wilberforce,  Buxton,  Horner,  Buller,  11,12.  —  Peabody  (1875),  12 

Poets'  Corner.  —  South  Transept:  Chaucer  (1400),  14.  —  Spenser 
(1599),  16.  —  Beaumont  (1615),  Shakspeare's  monument,  18. — 
Drayton  (1631),  19. —  Ben  Jonson  (1637),  20.  —  Ayton  (1638), 
May  (1650),  Davenant  (1668),  22.  — Cowley  (1667),  23.  — Den- 
ham  (1668),  Dryden  (1700),  24,  25.  —  Shad  well  (1692),  28;  Stepney 
(1707),  Phillips  (1708),  28,  29.  — Milton  (1674),  30.  —  Butler 
(1680),  Rowe  (1718),  31,  32.  — Aphara  Behn  (1689),  St.  Evrer 
mond  (1703),  33;  Tom  Brown  (1704),  Addison  (1719),  Steele 
(1729),  33,  34.  — Congreve  (1729),  36.  —  Prior  (1721),  38.  — Gay 
(1732),  38.  — Pope  (1744),  40.  —  Thomson  (1748),  Gray  (1771), 
Mason  (1797),  41 

Historical  Aisle.  —  Casaubon  (1614),  41. — Izaak  Walton's  Mono- 
gram (1658),  Camden  (1623),  43.— Spelman  (1641),  44 

Theologians:  —The  Presbyterian  Preachers  (1643-1658),  45;  Trip- 
lett  (1670),  Barrow  (1677),  Outram  (1679),  45. —Busby  (1695), 
Grabs  (1711),  47;  Horneck  (1696),  South  (1716),  Vincent  (1815), 
48;  Thorndyke  (1672),  Atterbury  (1732),  49. —  Wharton  (1695), 
49.  —  Watts  (1748),  51.  —The  two  Wesleys  (1791),  51 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

Men  OF  Letters:  — Goldsmith  (1774),  52,  his  Epitaph,  53.  — John- 
son (1784),  54;  Macpherson  (1796),  Cumberland  (1811),  Sheridan 
(lgl6),  55.  — Anstey  (1805),  Granville  Sharp  (1813),  56;  Camp- 
bell, Gary  (1844),  57.  —  Byrou  (1824),  57  ;  William  Gifford  (1827), 
57;  Southey  (1843),  Wordsworth  (1850),  Keble(  1866),  58:  Lytton 
(1873),  Macaulay  (1859),  Thackeray  (1863),  Dickens  (1870),Grote 
and  Thirlwall  (1870,  1875),  59,  60 

The  Actors,  60.  — Anne  Oldfield  (1730),  62.— Anne  Bracegirdle 
(1748),  63;  Betterton  (1710),  Booth  (1733),  Cibber  (1766), 
Prichard  (1768),  63,  64.— Barry,  Foots  (1777),  Garrick  (1779), 
65  ;  Henderson  (1785),  Siddons  (1831),  66,  67.  —  Kemble  (1823),  67 

Musicians:  — Lawes  (1662),  67  ;  Christopher  Gibbons  (1676),  Purcell 
(1695),  Blow  (1708),  68,  69.  —  Croft  (1727),  Handel  (17.59), 
Cooke  (1793),  Arnold  (1802),  Burney  (1814),  Bennett  (1875), 
Clementi  (1832),  69,  70 

Artists  :  — Kneller  (1723),  72.  Architects  :  — Taylor  (1788), 
Chambers  (1796),  Banks  (1805),  Wyatt  (1813),  Barry  (1860),  73. 
Engravers:— Vertue  (1756),  Woollett  (1785),  73 

Men  of  Science:  —  Newton  (1727),  by  the  side  of  the  Stanhopes, 
74,  75.  — Conduitt  (1737),  Ffolkes  (1754),  76;  Herschel  (1870), 
Lyell  (1875),  78  ;  Livingstone  (1875),  84 

Physicians  :  — Chamberlen,  Woodward,  and  Freind  (1728),  77,  78; 
Wetenall  (1733),  Mead  (1754),  Pringle  (1782),  Hiinter  (1793), 
Winteringham  (1794),  Buchan  (1805),  Baillie  (1823),  Davy, 
Young  (1829),  79,  80 

Practical  Science:  —  Sir  R.  Moray  (1673),  Sir  Samuel  Morland 
(1696),80.  — Tompion  (1713),  Graham  (1751 ),  81.  — Hales  (1761), 
Watt  (1819),  82.  —  Rennell  (1830),  Telford  (1834),  Stephenson 
(1859),  Brunei  (1859),  Locke  (1860),  83,  84 

The  Nobility  :  —  Elizabeth  Percy,  Duchess  of  Northumberland 
(1776),  86.  —  The  Delaval  Family,  87  ;  Countess  of  Strathmore, 
87.  —  The  Young  :  —  Jane  Lister,  Nicholas  Bagnall,  88  ;  Thomas 
Smith,  Carteret,  Dalrymple,  89.  —  Mourners  :  —  Lord  and  Lady 
Kerry,  89.  —  Lady  Elizabeth  Nightingale,  90.  —  Friends  :  —  Mary 
Kendall,  Grace  Gethin,  91  ;  Withers,  Disney,  91,92.  —  Longev- 
ixY  :  —  Anne  Birkhead,  Thomas  Parr,  Elizabeth  Woodfall,  92, 
93. —  Foreigners:  —  Spanheim,  Couraj-er,  93;  Paleologus,  94; 
Chardin,  Paoli,  Steigerr,  Duras,  95,  96;  Armand  and  Charlotte 
de  Bourbon,  96.  —  Translation  of  Lyndwood,  97.  —  Servants,  97 

Conclusion  of  the  Survey  —  gradual  growth  of  the  monuments,  uncer- 
tain distribution  of  honours,  the  toleration  of  the  Abbey,  changes 
of  taste,  variety  of  judgment,  104-113 

Note  on  the  Waxwork  Effigies,  1 14-120 


CONTENTS.  vn 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

The  Monastery,  123. —  its  connection  with  the  Palace,  123.— and  in- 
dependence, 124 
The  Abbots,  127. —  The  Norman  Abbots,  129.  —  The   Plantagenet 
Abbots,  '  132. — Ware,  Laugham,    Littlington,    131-133.  —  Ishp, 
135.  — their  general  character,  127-136 
The  Monks,  136.  —  the  monastic  life,  138 

The  Monastery.  —Its  Possessions  on  the  Northwest  of  Westminster: 
the  Mill,  Orchard,  Vineyard,  Bowling  Alley,  and  Gardens :  the 
pass  of  the  Knights'  Bridge,  Tothill  Fields,  the  Manors  of  Hyde 
and  Neate,  139-141.  — on  the  Northeast:  Covent  Garden, St.  Mar- 
tin'sle-Grand,  141,  142 
Precincts.  —  King  Street.  —  the  Gatehouse  :  its  uses  as  a  Prison, 

142-147. — its  Keeper,  147 
The  Sanctuary,  149.  — Murder  of  Hawle,   152.  — Outrage  of  Wat 
Tyler,  154. —  Two  Visits  of  p:iizabeth  Woodville,  155. —  Owen 
Tudor,  158.  —  Skelton,  158  ;  End  of  the  Sanctuary,  158 
The  Almonry  :  St.  Anne's  Lane,  160.  — '  The  Elms  '  in  Dean's  Yard, 

the  Granary,  161 
'The  Abbot's  Place  '  (the  Deanery),  the  Dining  Hall,  161.  — Con- 
spiracy of  William  of  Colchester,  162 
Jerusalem  Chamber,  163:  Death  of  Henry  IV.,  165.- Conversion 

of  Henry  V.,  167.  —  Sir  Thomas  More,  169 
The  Priors  and  Subpriors,  169 
The  Cloisters,  170 :  —  The  School  in  the  West  Cloister,  Shaving  of 

the  Monks,  171,  172 
The  Kefectory,  173 
The  Dormitory  of  the  Monks,  175 
The  Treasury,  176. —  The  Tomb  of  Hugolin,  177.  — The  Robbery, 

178 
The  Chapter  House,  182:— tombs,  182.  — rebuilt  by  Henry  III., 
183._its  peculiarities,  183.  — its  monastic  purposes,  184. —  capi- 
tular meetings,  185. —occupied  by  the  House  of  Commons,  186- 
189.  — statutes  of  Circumspecte  Agatis,  Provisions,  Praemunire, 
190;  convention  of  Henry  V.,  Wolsey's  Legatine  Court,  the  Acts 
of  the  Reformation,  190,  191.  —  used  as  a  Record  Office,  194. — 
Agarde,  Rymer,  Palgrave,  195,  196. —  its  Restoration,  197 
The  Jewel  House,  198.  — the  Parliament  Office,  198 


viii  CONTENTS. 

The  Anchorite,  199.  —  William  Ushborne  and  his  Fishpond,  199 

The  Infirmary  and  Garden,  200.  —  Chapel  of  St.  Catherine,  201  ; 
Consecrations  of  Bishops,  Councils  of  Westminster,  202.  —  Strug- 
gles of  the  Primates,  20-3 

Cardinal  Wolsey.  —  the  Reception  of  his  Hat,  209.  —his  Visitations, 
209 

Conclusion.  — Caxton's  Printing  Press,  212 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    ABBEY    SINCE    THE    REFORMATION. 

The  Dissolution  of  the  Monastery  (1540),  217.  —  The  Cathedral  under 
the  Bishop  of  Westminster,  Thirlby  (1540),  218. —  under  the 
Bishop  of  London,  Ridley  (1550),  'Robbing  Peter  to  pay  Paul,' 
220.  — The  Deans,  Benson  (1539),  Cox  (1549),  222.— Weston 
(1553),  223 

The  Revival  of  the  Abbacy  :  High  Mass  of  the  Golden  Fleece  (Nov. 
30,  1554),  223,  224.— Abbot  Feckenham  (1555),  225.  —  Restora- 
tion of  the  Shrine  (1557),  227.— The  Westminster  Conference, 
229.  —  Feckenham 's  Farewell  to  the  College  Garden,  and  Death 
(1585),  230,  231 

The  Change  under  Queen  Elizabeth,  231.  — The  Collegiate  Church 
of  St.  Peter,  234.  —  The  Chapter  Library,  the  Schoolroom,  the 
old  Dormitory  of  the  Scholars,  the  College  Hall,  connection  of 
School  with  Oxford  and  Cambridge.  —  its  collegiate  constitution, 
235-238 

The  Deans:  Bill  (1560), 239;  Goodman  (1601),  240.— Pest  House  at 
Chiswick,  241.— Nowell  and  Camden,  Headmasters,  241,  242. — 
Deans:  Lancelot  Andrewes  (1605),  Neale  (1610),  Monteigne 
(1617),  Tounson   (1620),  242-245 

Dean  Williams  (1620-50);  his  Benefactions,  his  Preferments,  245- 
248. — Entertainments  given  by  him  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber 
and  College  Hall,  251-253.  —  The  adventure  of  Lily  in  the  Clois- 
ters, 256.  —  Williams's  first  Imprisonment,  Ussher  at  the  Deanery, 
257,  258.  —  Williams's  Return  (1640),  259.  — Peter  Heylin  in  the 
Pulpit,  260.  —  Conferences  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  260.  — 
Attack  on  the  Abbey,  261.  —  Williams's  Second  Imprisonment 
(1641),  262.  —  Puritan  Changes,  263.  —  Desecration  of  the  Abbey, 
Destruction  of  Edward  VI.'s  Memorial  and  of  the  Regalia,  264, 
265 

The  Commonwealth,  265.  — The  Commissioners,  the  Presbyterian 
Preachers,  266.  —  The  Westminster  Assembly,  the  Westminster 
Confession,  268-275. —Richard  Stewart,  Dean,  276  —  Bradshaw, 


CONTENTS.  ix 

276.  —  Osbaldiston,  Busby,  Glyuue,  aud  Wake,  Uvedale,  South, 
Philip  Henry,  278-283 

The  Restoration,  283.  —  Consecrations  of  Bishops,  285.  —  Deans  ; 
Earles  (1663),  Dolben,  288,  289. —The  Plague,  290.  —  The  Fire 
(1666),  291.  — Dean  Sprat  (1713),  291. —  Declaration  of  Indul- 
gence, 291.  —  Barrow's  Sermons,  293.  —  Prebendaries  :  John 
North,  Symou  Patrick,  Robert  South,  294-297.  —  South's  Death, 
301 

Atterbury  (1713-23),  301.  —  his  researches,  repairs  of  the  Abbey,  and 
preaching,  302,  303.  — rebuilds  the  Dormitory  of  the  School,  304. 

—  his  Fall,  305.  —his  Plots,  307.  —his  Exile,  311.  — his  Funeral 
(17.32),  311.  —The  Wesleys,  313 

The  Convocations,  313.  — original  seat  of,  at  St.  Paul's,  314.  — Trans- 
ference of,  to  Westminster  under  Wolsey,  314.  —  Held  in  Henry 
VII.'s  Chapel,  316.  —  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  318.  — the  Prayer 
Book  of  1662,  318.  — Commission  for  Revision  of  the  Liturgy  of 
1689,  320.  —  Disputes  between  the  two  Houses  as  to  the  place  of 
meeting,  321.  —  Revision  of  the  Authorised  Version,  326 

Knipe  and  Freind,  Headmasters;  Fire  in  the  Cloisters  (1731),  328. — 
Deans,  Bradford  (1723),  Wilcocks  (1731),  329.  —  Building  of 
Westminster  Bridge  (1738),  330.  —  Deans  :  Pearce  (1756),  333.  — 
Thomas  (1768),  .334.  —  Headmasters  :  Nicoll,  Markham,  337,  .338. 

—  Deans:  Horsley  (1793),  Vincent  (1802),  Ireland  (1815-42), 
Turton  (1842-45),  Wilberforce  (1845),  Buckland  (1845-56),  Trench 
(1856-63),  Headmasters,  339-342 

Baptisms  and  Marriages,  343.  —  Consecration  of  Bishops,  343 

Changes  of  public  sentiment  towards  the  Abbey,  345-351  ;  Carter  the 

Antiquary,  352 
Conclusion. — The  various  uses  of  the  Abbey,  354. — Continuity  of 

Worship,  357. —the  Altar,  358. —the  Pulpit,  360.  —  Fulfilment 

of  the  purposes  of  the  Founder,  362 


An   Account  op  the   Search   for    the   Bcrialplace   op 

James  I , 367 

Index 405 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Plan  of  the  North  Transept 2 

"          Poets'  Corner 13 

Poets'  Corner 15 

Chaucer's  Monument       16 

The  Nightingale  Monument 90 

Tothill  Fields 140 

Old  Gatehouse  of  the  Precincts,  Westminster;  pulled  down  in  1776  142 

Jerusalem  Chamber,  Westminster 164 

The  Cloisters,  with  entrance  to  the  Chapter  House 170 

The  Chapter  House,  as  restored  by  Sir  Gilbert  Scott 196 

The  Choir  Stalls 217 

Shrine  of  Edward  the  Confessor 228 

Plan  of  the  '  Abbot's  Place,'  and  of  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  at 

the  time  of  the  Westminster  Assembly 273 

The  North  Transept 292 

Ancient  Wall  of  the  Abbey  in  College  Street 333 

The  Apse 364 

Wooden  case  of  Leaden  Coffin  of  Queen  Elizabeth 385 

Torregiauo's  Altar,  formerly  at  the  head  of  Henry  VIL's  Tomb, 
under  which  Edward  VI.  was  buried  (from  an  engraving  in 

Sandford's  '  Genealogical  History ') 386 

Marble  Fragment  of  Torregiauo's  Altar 387 

Carving  of  Torregiauo's  Altar 388 

Leaden  Plate  of  Edward  VI.'s  Coffin 390 

Henry  VII.'s  Vault,  West  end 395 

The  Coffins  of  James  I.,  Elizabeth  of  York,  and  Henry  VII.,  as 
seen  on  the  opening  of  the  Vault  in  1869  (from  a  drawing  of 

George  Scharf,  Esq.) 396 

Plan  of  Henry  VII.'s  Vault 396 


PHOTOGEAVURES. 

Chiefly  aftek  Etchings  by  Herbert  Railton. 


PAGE 

The  Abbey Frontispiece 

The  North  Trausept 20 

The  South  Transept 82 

The  Chapter  House 181 

North  Aisle  of  the  Choir 238 

Henry  VII.'s  Chapel  (interior) 316 

South  Aisle  of  the  Choir 356 


CHAPTER  lY. 

THE  MONUMENTS   (continued). 

TPVOWN"  to  this  point  we  have  followed  the  general 
-'-^  stream  of  history,  as  it  has  wound,  at  its  own 
sweet  will,  in  and  out  of  Chapel,  Aisle,  and  Nave,  with- 
out distinction  of  class  or  order.  But  there  are  chan- 
nels which  may  be  kept  apart,  by  the  separation  both 
of  locality  and  of  interests. 

The  first  to  be  noticed  is  the  last  in  chronological 
order,  but  flows  more  immediately  out  of  the  general 
arrangement  of  the  tombs.  The  statesmen  of  the 
previous  ages  had,  as  we  have  seen,  found  statesmen. 
their  resting-places  and  memorials,  according  to  their 
greater  or  less  importance,  in  almost  every  part  of  the 
Abbey.  But  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century  a  marked 
change  took  place.  Down  to  that  time  one  exception 
presented  itself  to  the  general  influx.  The  Northern 
Transept,  like  the  north  side  of  a  country  churchyard 
—  like  the  Pelasgicum  under  the  dark  shadow  of  the 
north  wall  of  the  Acropolis  of  Athens  —  had  remained 
a  comparative  solitude.  But,  like  the  Pelasgicum  un- 
der the  pressure  of  the  Peloponnesian  War,  this  gradu- 

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THE   MONUMENTS   OF  THE   STATESMEN.  3 

ally  began  to  be  occupied.  At  first  it  seemed  destined 
to  become  the  Admirals'  Corner.  They,  more  than  any 
other  class,  had  filled  its  walls  and  vacant  niches.  One 
great  name,  however,  determined  its  future  fate  for 
ever.  The  growth  of  the  naval  empire  which  those  nau- 
tical monuments  symbolised  had  taken  place  under  one 
commanding   genius.     William  Pitt,  Earl   of  ^    ^ 

o     o  '  Lord 

Chatham,  was  the  first  English  politician  who,  diMm™'ii 
without  other  accompaniments  of  military  or  ^^'''^• 
literary  glory,  or  court -favour,  won  his  way  to  the  chief 
place  of  statesmanship.  Whatever  fame  had  gathered 
round  his  life,  was  raised  to  the  highest  pitch  by  the 
grand  scene  at  his  last  appearance  in  the  House  of 
Lords.  The  two  great  metropoHtan  cemeteries  contended 
for  his  body  —  a  contention  the  more  remarkable  if,  as, 
was  partly  believed  at  the  time,  he  had  meanwhile  been 
privately  interred  in  his  own  churchyard  at  Hayes.  It 
was  urgently  entreated  by  the  City  of  London,  as  '  a 
mark  of  gratitude  and  veneration  from  the  first  com- 
mercial city  of  the  empire  towards  the  statesman  whose 
vigour  and  counsels  had  so  much  contributed  to  the 
protection  and  extension  of  its  commerce,'  that  he 
should  be  buried  '  in  the  cathedral  church  of  St.  Paul,  in 
the  City  of  London.'  Parliament,  however,  had  already 
decided  in  favour  of  Westminster,  on  the  ground  that  he 
ought  to  be  brought  '  near  to  the  dust  of  kings  ; '  ^  and 
accordingly,  with  almost  regal  pomp,  the  body  His  fnnerai, 
was  brought  from  the  Painted  Chamber,  and  J"'"^^.!"^- 
interred  in  the  centre  of  the  North  Transept,  in  a  vault 
which  eventually  received  his  whole  family. 

Though  men  of  all  parties  had  concurred  in  decreeing 
posthumous  honours  to  Chatham,  his  corpse  was  attended  to 

1  Anecdotes  ofL&rd  Chatham,  pp.  332,  335  ;  Malcolm,  p.  254. 


4  THE   MONUMENTS 

the  grave  almost  exclusively  by  opponents  of  the  Government. 
The  banner  of  the  lordship  of  Chatham  was  borne  by  Colonel 
Barre,  attended  by  the  Duke  of  Eichmond  and  Lord  Rock- 
ingham. Burke,  Saville,  and  Dunning  upheld  the  pall. 
Lord  Camden  was  conspicuous  in  the  procession.  The  chief 
mourner  was  young  William  Pitt.-' 

Such  honours  Ihum  to  her  hero  paid. 

And  peaceful  slept  the  mighty  Hector's  shade.^ 

The  North  Transept  '  has  ever  since  been  appropriated 
to  statesmen,  as  the  other  transept  to  poets.'  The 
words  of  Junius  have  been  literally  fulfilled :  '  Re- 
corded honours  still  gather  round  his  monument,  and 
thicken  over  him.  It  is  a  solid  fabric,  and  will  support 
the  laurels  that  adorn  it.'  ^ 

In  no  other  cemetery  do  so  many  great  citizens  lie  within 

so  narrow  a  space.     High  over  those  venerable  graves  towers 

the  stately  monument  of  Chatham,*  and  from  above, 

Monument      ■,  .         r-,  ,  •         i         i 

and  effigy  of  his  eingy,  graven  by  a  cunning  hand,  seems  still, 
with  eagle  face  and  outstretched  arm,  to  bid  Eng- 
land be  of  good  cheer,  and  to  hurl  defiance  at  her  foes.  The 
generation  which  reared  that  memorial  of  him  has  disap- 
peared. And  history,  while,  for  the  warning  of  vehement, 
high,  and  daring  natures,  she  notes  his  many  errors,  will  yet 

1  Macaulay's  Essays,  vi.  229. 

2  His  own  last  words,  commnnicated  to  me  by  a  friend,  who  heard 
them  from  the  first  Lord  Sidmouth. 

3  Anecdotes  of  Chatham,  p.  379.  —  In  the  same  vault  are  his  wife 
and  daughter  (Lady  Harriet  Eliot),  and  the  second  Lord  and  Lady 
Chatham.  His  coffin  Avas  found  turned  over  by  the  water  thrown  into 
the  vault  in  tlie  fire  of  1806.  Lady  Harriet's  death  deeply  affected  her 
brother.  (See  Life  of  Wilberforce,  i.  125,  and  Stanhope's  Lfe  of  Pitt, 
i.  313.) 

*  Bacon,  the  sculptor,  also  wrote  the  inscription.  George  III.  ap- 
proved it,  but  said,  '  Now,  Bacon,  mind  you  don't  turn  author,  but  stick 
to  your  chisel.*  (Londiniana,  ii.  63.)  The  figure  itself  is  suggested  by 
Roubiliac's  '  Eloquence '  on  the  Argyll  monument. 


OF  THE   STATESMEN.  5 

deliberately  pronounce  that,  among  the  eminent  men  whose 
bones  lie  near  his,  scarcely  one  has  left  a  more  stainless,  and 
none  a  more  splendid  name.^ 

Next  in  order  of  date,  buried  by  his  own  LordMans- 
desire  '  privately  in  this  cathedral,  from  the  March 'S 
love  he  bore  to  the  place  of  his  early  educa-  ^arch  28, 
tion,'  is  Lord  Mansfield.^  ^'^^^' 

Here  Murray,  long  enougli  his  country's  pride, 
Is  now  no  more  than  Tully  or  than  Hyde.^ 

Close  behind  the  great  judge  stands  the  statue  of  the 
famous  advocate.  Sir  William  Follett.     These  gj^  ^  ^r 
are  the  sole  representatives,  in  the  Abbey,  of  Ji°,\'e"'sf"'^ 
the  modern  legal  profession.     But  the  direct  ^^^^' 
succession  of  statesmen  is  immediately  con-  ^^"^  ^^^ 
tinned.     The  younfrer  Pitt  was  buried  in  his  „  „ 

"^  ^  William 

father's  vault.      '  The  sadness  of   the  assist-  Pi",  died  at 

Putney,  Jan. 

ants  was  beyond  that  of  ordinary  mourners,  ^^gj^^'^.^'^gog 
For  he  whom  they  were  committing  to  the 
dust  had  died  of  sorrows  and  anxieties  of  which  none 
of  the  survivors  could  be  altogether  without  a  share. 
Wilberforce,  who  carried  one  of  the  banners  before  the 
hearse,  described  the  awful  ceremony  with  deep  feeling. 
As  the  coffin  descended  into  the  earth,  he  said,  the 

1  Macaulay's  Essai/s. 

'^  It  is  copied  from  a  portrait  by  Reynolds.  His  nephew  (1796)  was 
buried  in  the  same  vault. 

a  'Foretold  by  Pope,  and  fulfilled  in  the  year  1793.'  (Epitaph.) 
The  passage  is  from  Pope's  Epistles  — 

And  what  is  fame  ?  the  meanest  have  their  day ; 
The  greatest  can  but  blaze,  and  pass  away. 
Grac'd  as  thou  art,  with  all  the  power  of  words, 
So  known,  so  honour'd,  at  the  House  of  Lords : 
Conspicuous  scene !  another  yet  is  nigh 
[More  silent  far),  tchere  kings  and  poets  lie; 
Where  Murray  (long  enough  his  country's  pride) 
Shall  be  no  more  than  Tully  or  than  Hyde ! 


5  THE   MONUMENTS 

eagle  face  of  Chatham  seemed  to  look  down  with  con- 
sternation into  the  dark  home  which  was  receivmg  all 
that  remained  of  so  much  power  and  glory.'  ^  Lord 
Wellesley,  who  was  present,  with  his  brother  Arthur, 
already  famous,  spoke  of  the  day  with  no  less  emotion. 
The  herald  pronounced  over  his   grave,  Ko7i  sihi  sccl 

Charles  Fox,    patvicc    Vixit. 

chiswick.  There  is  but  one  entry  in  the  Eegister  be- 

buHeduct.    tween  the  burial  of  Pitt  and  the  burial  of 


annivet-sary    Fox     Thcv   lic   withiu   a   few  tcet   01   eacti 

of  his  first  •' 

Westmins-       other. 
ter  election). 

Here,  where  the  end  of  earthly  things 

Lays  heroes,  patriots,  bards,  and  kings, 

Where  stiff  the  hand  and  still  the  tongue 

Of  those  who  fought  and  spoke  and  sung ; 

Here,  where  the  fretted  aisles  prolong 

The  distant  notes  of  holy  song, 

As  if  some  angel  spoke  agen, 

'  All  peace  on  earth,  good  will  to  men '  — 

If  ever  from  an  English  heart. 

Oh  here  let  prejudice  depart  .  .  . 

For  ne'er  held  marble  in  its  trust 

Of  two  such  wondrous  men  the  dust.  .  .  . 

Genius  and  taste  and  talent  gone, 

For  ever  tomb'd  beneath  the  stone, 

Where  —  taming  thought  to  human  pride  — 

The  mighty  chiefs  sleep  side  by  side. 

Drop  upon  Fox's  grave  the  tear, 

'T  will  trickle  to  his  rival's  bier. 

O'er  Pitt's  the  mournful  requiem  sound, 

And  Fox's  shall  the  notes  rebound. 

The  solemn  echo  seems  to  cry  — 

Here  let  their  discord  with  them  die ; 

Speak  not  for  those  a  separate  doom. 

Whom  Fate  made  brothers  in  the  tomb  !  ^ 

1  Macanlay's  Essajis ;  Stanhope's  Pitt,  iv.  396  ;  Ann.  Register,  1806, 
p.  375  ;  Quart.  Rev.  Ivii.  492. 

2  Scott's  Marmion,  Introduction  to  canto  i. 


OF  THE  STATESMEN.  7 

Their  monuments  are  far  apart  from  their  graves,  but, 
by  a  singular  coincidence,  near  to  each  other,  so  as  to 
give  the  poet's  lines  a  fresh  application.     Pitt  Monument 
stands  in  his  robes  of  Chancellor  of  the  Ex-  °^p'"- 
chequer,  over  the  west  door  of  the  Abbey,  trampling  on 
the  French  Eevolution,  in  the  attitude  so  well  known 
by  his  contemporaries,  '  drawing  up  his  haughty  head, 
stretching  out  his  arm  with  commandmg  gesture,  and 
pouring  forth  the  lofty  language  of   inextinguishable 
hope.'     Fox's  monument,  erected  by  his  nu-  Monument 
merous  private  friends,    originally   near   the  ''^*'°''- 
North  Transept,  was  removed  to  the  side  of  Lord  Hol- 
land's, in  the  north-west  angle  of  the  Nave.  ^^^  ^^^,^3, 
The  figure  of  the  Negro  represents  the  prom-  c^^^^^- 
inence  which  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade  then  occu- 
pied in  the  public  mind.^     This  spot  by  the  lo^^^^ 
monuments  of  Fox  and  Holland,  of  Tierney,  died  oct.  22, 
the  soul  of  every  opposition,  and  of  Mackin-  Tiemey, 
tosh,2  the  cherished  leader   of   philosophical  diedisao. 

'  -  Mackintosh, 

and  liberal  thought,  and  the  reformer  of  our  died  1832. 
criminal  code,  has   been   consecrated  as  the 
Whigs'  Corner.     The  shock  of  Perceval's  as-  PfJJ^j^f^ 
sassination    is   commemorated   in   the   Nave.  n.  isi^- 
But  the  burials  continued  in  the  North  Tran- 
sept.3    Grattan  had  expressed  to  his  friends  his  died  juAe 
earnest  desire  ('Ptemember!  remember!')  to  Ju'ue^ief 
be   buried  in  a  retired  churchyard  at  Moy- 
anna,  in  Queen's  County,  on  the  estate  given  him  by 

1  '  Liberty '  lost  her  cap  in  the  erection  of  the  scaffolding  for  the 
coronation  of  Queen  Victoria. 

2  Buried  at  Hampstead,  1832.  How  well  he  knew  and  loved  the 
Abbey  appears  from  the  record  of  his  walk  round  it  with  Maria  Edge- 
worth.  The  inscription,  added  in  1867,  is  by  his  nephew  Mr.  Claude 
Erskine. 

8  The  first  Lord  Minto  was  buried  here  January  29,  1816. 


8  THE   MONUMENTS 

the  Irish  people.  On  his  deathbed,  in  the  midst  of  one 
of  his  impassioned  exclamations  about  his  country  — 
'  I  stood  up  for  Ireland,  and  I  was  right '  —  as  his  eye 
kindled  and  his  countenance  brightened,  and  his  arm 
was  raised  with  surprising  firmness,  he  added,  '  As  to 
my  grave,  I  wish  to  be  laid  in  Moyanna  :  I  had  rather 
be  buried  there.'  His  friends  told  him  that  it  was  their 
intention  to  place  him  in  Westminster  Abbey.^  '  Oh  !  ' 
said  he,  '  that  will  not  be  thought  of ;  I  would  rather 
have  Moyanna.'  On  the  request  being  urged  again  the 
next  day  from  the  Duke  of  Sussex,  he  gave  way,  and 
said,  '  Well,  Westminster  Abbey.'  ^  The  children  of 
the  Koman  Catholic  charities  were,  at  the  request  of 
the  '  British  Catholic  Board,'  who  also  attended,  ranged 
in  front  of  the  west  entrance,  the  Irish  children  habited 
in  green.  The  coffin  nearly  touched  the  foot  of  the 
coffin  of  Fox,  '  whom  in  life  he  so  dearly  valued,  and 
near  whom,  in  death,  it  would  have  been  his  pride 
to  lie.' 3 

Here,  near  yon  walls,  so  often  shook 
By  the  stern  weight  of  his  rebuke, 

1  This  was  helieved  by  the  Irish  patriots  of  that  time  to  have  been  a 
stratagem  of  the  English  Government  to  restrain  the  enthusiam  wliich 
might  have  attended  Grattan's  funeral  obsequies  in  his  own  country. 
Sir  Jonah  Barriugton  is  furious  at  his  being  'suffered  to  moukler  in 
the  same  ground  with  his  country's  enemies.  .  .  .  England  has  taken 
away  our  Constitution,  and  even  the  relics  of  its  founder  are  retained 
through  the  duplicity  of  his  enemy'  (Barriugton's  Own  Times,  i.  353-58). 
An  Irish  patriot  of  more  recent  date,  by  an  excusable  mistake,  was  led 
to  confound  the  slab  over  Grattan's  grave  with  that  of  an  ancient 
mediiEval  knight  close  adjoining,  whose  worn  and  shattered  surface 
was  thus  supposed  to  represent  the  fallen  greatness  of  Ireland.  In  fact, 
Grattan's  slab  is  happily  as  whole  and  unbroken  as  any  in  the  Abbey, 
being  smaller  and  more  compact  than  most  of  the  grave-stones,  in  order 
to  place  it  at  the  head  of  Fox's  grave  according  to  Grattan's  desire. 

2  Lifeof  Grattan,  v.  545-5.3. 

3  Preface  to  Speeches  of  Grattan,  pp.  Ixi.-lxiii. 


OF   THE   STATESMEN.  V 

While  bigotry  with  blanching  brow 

Heard  him  and  blush'd,  but  would  not  bow, — 

Here,  where  his  ashes  may  fulfil 

His  country's  cherish'd  mission  still, 

There  let  him  point  his  last  appeal 

Where  statesmen  and  where  kings  will  kneel ; 

His  bones  will  warn  them  to  be  just. 

Still  pleading  even  from  the  dust.^ 

Castlereagh,  Marquis  of  Londonderry,  followed.     The 
mingled  feelings  of  consternation  and  of  triumph,  that 
were  awakened  in  the  Conservative  and  Lib-  castiereagh, 
eral   parties  throuGihout  Europe,  by  his  sud-  12, 1822,°' 
den  and  terrible  end,  accompanied  him  to  his  20, 1S22. 
grave.     From  his  house  in  St.  James's  Square  to  the 
doors  of  the  Abbey,  'the  streets  seemed  to  be  paved 
with  human  heads.'    The  Duke  of  Wellington  and  Lord 
Eldon  were   deeply  agitated.      But  when    the   hearse 
reached  the  western  door,  and  the  coffin  was  removed, 
'a  shout  arose  from  the  crowd,  which  echoed  loudly 
through  every  corner  of  the  ^  Abbey.'     Through  the  rag- 
ing mob,  and  amidst  shrieks  and  execrations,  the  mourn- 
ers literally  fought  their  way  into  the  church ;  and  it 
was  not  till  the  procession  had  effected  its  entrance,  and 
the  doors  were  closed,  that  a  stillness  succeeded  within 
the  building,  the  more  affecting  and  solemn  from  the 
tumult  which  preceded  it.^     With  this  awful  welcome 
the  coffin  moved  on,  and  was  deposited  be-  canning 
tween  the  graves  of  Pitt  and  Fox.     His  rival  Q^s^ipi- 
and  successor,  George  Canning,  was  not  long  h"rfed'Aug. 
behind  him.    On  the  day  of  the  funeral,  though  ^'''  ^*"^' 
the  rain  descended  in  torrents,  the  streets  were  crowded, 

1  Preface  to  Speeches  of  Gratfan,  p.  Ixxiii. 

2  Annual  Re(jister  (1822),  p.  181. 

•  From  an  eyewitness  who  beheld  it  from  the  organ  loft. 


10  THE   MONUMENTS 

and  he  was  laid  opposite  the  grave  of  Pitt.^  His  son, 
a  stripling  of  sixteen,  was  present. 

When,  on  the  sudden  death  of  Sir  Eobert  Peel,  '  all 

London  felt  like  one  family,'  the  departed  statesman 

had  so  expressly  provided  in  his  will,  that  he 

Peel,  died  -i  -^    ^  ™    i  •       n     i 

July  2. 1850,  should  be  '  buried  by  the  side  of  his  father 

buried  at  '' 

Drayton.  ^^^  mother  at  Drayton,'  that  tlie  honoured 
His  statue.  axQNQ  in  the  Abbey  was  not  sought.  In  its 
place  was  erected  Gibson's  statue  of  him,  which  still 
waits  the  inscription  that  shall  record  what  he  was.^ 

The  closing  scene  of  Lord  Palmerston's  octogenarian 

career  was  laid  amongst  the  memorials  of  the  numerous 

statesmen,   friends   or   foes,  with   whom   his 

Palmerston,  , . 

buried  oct^'  public  life  had  been  spent.  He  lies  opposite 
27. 1865.  i-jjg  statue  of  his  first  patron.  Canning.  As 
the  coffin  sank  into  the  grave  —  amidst  the  circle  of 
those  who  were  to  succeed  to  the  new  sphere  left 
vacant  by  his  death  — a  dark  storm  broke  over  the 
Abbey,  in  which,  as  in  a  black  shroud,  the  whole  group 
of  mourners  seemed  to  vanish  from  the  sight,  till  the 
ray  of  the  returning  sun,  as  the  service  drew  to  its  end, 
once  more  lighted  up  the  gloom. 

The  Indian  statesmen  not  unnaturally  fell  into  the 
Indian  aisles  of  the  samc  transept,  which  thus  enfolds 
stauntrn'''  ^t  ouce  the  earlier  trophies  of  Indian  warfare, 
!~JJ^'°-  and  the  first  founders  of  the  Indian  Empire  — 
di^d  isTi  Sir  George  Staunton,  Sir  John  IMalcolm,  Sir 
Raffles,  died  g|.j^^foj.c[  Eafflcs,  the  younger  Canning  (laid 
Canning.  bcsldc  his  father),  and  an  earlier,  a  greater, 
M-f "'  but  a  more  ambiguous  name  than  any  of  these 
—  Warren  Hastings.     'With  all  his  faults,  and  they 

1  Life  of  Canning,  p.  143. 

2  Peel's  name  was  first  inscribed  in  1866.  Gibson  refused  to  under- 
take the  work  unless  he  was  allowed  to  adopt  the  classical  costume. 


OF   INDIAN  STATESaiEN,  11 

were  neither  few  nor   small,  only  one  cemetery  was 
worthy   to   contain    his    remains.      In    that  ^-arren 
Temple  of  silence  and  reconciliation  where  the  ^led^Af^ 
enmities  of  twenty  generations  lie  buried,  in  buVil^  at 
the  Great  Abbey  which  has  during  many  ages  ^^>'^^®^°'"<^ 
afforded  a  quiet  resting-place  to  those  whose  minds  and 
bodies  have  been  shattered  by  the  contentions  of  the 
Great  Hall,  the  dust  of  the  illustrious  accused  should 
have  mingled  with  the  dust  of  the  illustrious  „.  ^   ^ 

"  His  bust, 

accusers.'^  Though  this  was  not  to  be,  and  erected isig. 
though  his  remains  lie  by  the  parish  church  of  his 
ancestral  Daylesford,  his  memorial  ^  stands  in  the 
Abbey,  which  had  also  been  associated  with  his  early 
years  —  with  the  days  when  he  was  remembered  by 
the  poet  Cowper  as  the  active  Westminster  boy,  who 
had  rowed  on  the  Thames  and  played  in  the  Cloisters, 
amongst  the  scholars  to  whom  he  left  the  magnificent 
cup  which  bears  his  name.  It  was  whilst  standing 
before  this  bust  that  Macaulay  received  from  Dean 
Milman,  the  Prebendary  of  Westminster,  the  sug- 
gestion of  writing  that  essay,  which  has  in  our  own 
days  revived  the  fame  of  the  great  proconsul. 

Close  by  the  monument  of  the  stern  ruler  of  India 
begins  the  line  of  British  philanthropists.  It  started 
with   the    tablet   of    Jonas    Hanway,   whose  philan- 

•'  '  THROPISTS. 

motto,  'Never  despair,'  recalls  his  unexpected  Jonas  Han- 
deliverance  from  his  dangers  in  Persia.     Of  GiaAviue' 
the  heroes  of  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade,^  zachary 
Clarkson  alone  is  absent.      Granville   Sharp  Mayis.is'ss. 

(Life  of  Gibson,  by  Lady  Eastlake,  90,  which  contains  an  able  defence 
of  his  choice.)  He  had  wished  to  have  the  statue  placed  in  the  Nave. 
But  this  was  impossible.  ^  Macaulay's  Essays,  iii.  465. 

2  By  Bacon,  erected  1819.    (Chapter  Book,  .Tune  .3,  1819.) 

3  A  monument  of  the  same  cause  has  been  raised  outside  the  Abbej 
by  Charles  Buxton. 


12  THE  MONUMENTS  OF  THE  POETS. 

has  his  memorial  in  Poets'  Corner,  Zachary  Macaulay  ^ 
in  the  Whigs'  Corner  of  the  Nave.    Wilberforce 

Wilberforce,  ,  ...  (.tit-)  i  9 

diedjuiy29,  was,  at  the  requisition  oi   Lord  isrougiiam,- 

buried  Aug.  n    i       i      tt 

3, 1S33.         buried,  with  the  attendance  or  botli  Houses 
of    Parliament,   amongst   his  friends   in   the 

Buxton,  died  ° 

Feb.  19, 1845,  North  Transept  with  whom  he  had  fought 

buried  at  •■■  ^ 

^^eretrand.  |;^g  gjjj^g  gggd  fight;  and  his  statue  sits  nearly 

Le-horn*  ^^^^  by  side  with  Fowell  Buxton  m  the  North 

^^^''-  Aisle.  In  later  times  and  in  a  more  philo- 
sophic vein,  in  the  same  corner  of  the  church,  follow 
the  cenotaphs  —  all  striking  likenesses  of  men  prema- 

Buiier,  died  turcly  lost  —  of  Praucis  Horner,^  the  founder 

1848,  buried  of  our  modcm  economical  and  financial  policy ; 

Grf^^"^  Charles  Buller,*  the  genial  advocate  of    our 

isesl^bJfed  colonial    interests ;    Cornewall    Lewis,   inde- 

Radnor.  fatigablc  and  judicial  alike  as  scholar  and  as 

Aprii'2°'is65,  statcsmau  ;  and  Piichard  Cobden,^  the  success- 

westLav-  ful  cliampiou  of  Free  Trade.     In  the  Nave  is 

George  the  inscription  which  marks  the  spot  where 

Peabody,  •  n  ^/  -r> 

1875.  for  a  month  rested  the  remains  of  George  Pea- 

body,  who  had  desired  to  express  his  gratitude  to  God 
for  the  blessings  heaped  upon  him,  by  '  doing  some 
great  good  to  his  fellowmen.' 

We  now  pass  to  the  other  side  of  the  Abbey  for 
Poets'  another  line  of  worthies,  which  has  a  longer 
Corner.  continuity  than  any  other;  beginning  under 
the  Plantagenet  dynasty,  and  reviving  again  and  again, 
with  renewed  freshness,  in  each  successive  reign  — 

1  The  epitaph  was  written  by  Sir  James  Stephen,  and  corrected  by 
Sir  Fowell  Buxton.  2  /jj-^  o/  WUberforce,  v.  373. 

3  His  statue  is  one  of  Chantrey's  best  works.  The  epitaph  is  by  Sir 
Henry  Englefield.  4  His  epitaph  is  by  Lord  Houghton. 

5  The  framer  of  an  earlier  commercial  treaty.  Sir  Paul  Methuen,  was 
buried  in  the  Abbey  in  1757,  in  the  grave  of  his  father,  John  Methuen, 
to  whom  there  is  a  monument  in  the  south  aisle  of  the  Nave. 


Entr. 


°Jonsoa     °  Butler      °  Milton 
°  II  Spenser      °  Gray 

a  o 

oS 

<»» 

so 


_^: I      I 

°llRowe  =g  °  Goldsmith 


°APM  I'LL 


II  Garrick 
II  Johnson    ^ 
II  Sheridan 


S     =      "^ 


OHawle 


II  Macpherson 

II  Adam 
U  Chambers 

II  Gififord 
D  Deaii  Ireland 


>> 


<« 


ro     ^     CO 


South  Aisle  of  Choir. 


PLAN  OF  rOETS'  CORNER 


14  THE  MONUMENTS 

Till  distant  warblings  fade  upon  my  ear, 
And  lost  in  long  futurity  expire. 

The  Southern  Transept,^  hardly  known  by  any  other 
name  but  'Poets'  Corner  '  —  the  most  familiar ^  though 
not  the  most  august  or  sacred  spot  in  the  whole  Abbey 
—  derives  the  origin  of  its  peculiar  glory,  like  the 
Northern  Transept  at  a  much  later  period,  from  a  single 
tomb.     Although  it  is  by  a  royal  affinity  that 

These  poets  near  our  princes  sleep, 
And  in  one  grave  their  mansion  keep,^ 

the  first  beginning  of  the  proximity  was  from  a  home- 
lier cause.  We  have  already  traced  the  general  be- 
ginning of  the  private  monuments  to  Eichard  II.  It  is 
from  him,  also  indirectly,  that  the  poetical  monuments 
take  their  rise.  In  1389  the  office  of  Clerk  of  the 
Eoyal  Works  in  the  Palaces  of  Westminster  and 
Windsor  was  vacant.  Possibly  from  his  services  to  the 
Eoyal  Family,*  possibly  from  Eichard's  well- 

ChaCCER  iT-pm 

known  patronage  oi  the  arts,  the  selection  ten 
on  Geoffrey  Chaucer.  He  retained  the  post  only  for 
twenty  months.  But  it  probably  gave  him  a  place  in 
the  Eoyal  Household,  which  was  not  forgotten  at  his 
death.  After  the  fall  of  Eichard, '  when  Chaucer's  hairs 
were  gray,  and  the  infirmities  of  age  pressed  heavily 
upon  him,  he   found   himself   compelled   to   come   to 

^  A  stained  window  has  been  recently  placed  at  the  entrance  of  this 
transept,  with  David,  and  St.  John  in  the  Apocalypse,  as  representing 
the  poets  of  the  Old  and  of  the  New  Testament. 

2  '  I  have  always  observed  that  the  visitors  to  the  Abbey  remain 
longest  about  the  simple  memorials  in  Poets'  Corner.  A  kinder  and 
fonder  feeling  takes  the  place  of  that  cold  curiosity  or  vague  admiration 
with  which  they  gaze  on  the  splendid  monuments  of  the  great  and  the 
heroic.  They  linger  about  these  as  about  the  tombs  of  friends  and 
companions.'     (Washington  Irving's  Sl-etch  Book,  p.  216.) 

8  Denham,  on  Cowley.  *  Godwin's  Life  of  Chaucer,  ii.  498. 


OF   THE   POETS.  15 

London  for  the  arrangement  of  his  affairs.'    There  is  still 
preserved  a  lease,  granted  to  him  by  the  keeper  of  the 
Lady  Chapel  of  the  Abbey,  which  makes  over  to  ^^^^^  ^^ 
him  a  tenement  in  the  garden  attached  to  that  oct.''25!^' 
building,^  on  the  ground  now  covered  by  the  ^"*'^*'- 
enlarged  Chapel  of  Henry  VII.     In  this  house  he  died, 
on  October  25,  in  the  last  year  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, uttering,  it  is  said,  '  in  the  great  anguish  of  his 
deathbed,'  the  'good   counsel'  which  closes  with  the 
pathetic  words  — 

Here  is  no  home,  here  is  but  wilderness. 
Forth,  pilgrim ;  forth,  O  beast,  out  of  thy  stall  1 
Look  up  on  high,  and  thank  thy  God  of  all. 
Control  thy  lust ;  and  let  thy  spirit  thee  lead  ; 
And  Truth  thee  shall  deliver;  'tis  no  dread. ^ 

Probably  from  the  circumstance  of  his  dying  so  close 
at  hand,  combined  with  the  royal  favour,  still  continued 
by  Henry  IV.,  he  was  brought  to  the  Abbey, 

1  -I  1  ,.  •  •  <•      1        ms  burial. 

and  buried,  where  the  functionaries  of  the 
monastery  were  beginning  to  be  interred,  at  the  en- 
trance of  St.  Benedict's  Chapel.  There  was  nothing  to 
mark  the  grave  except  a  plain  slab,  which  was  sawn 
up  when  Dryden's  monument  was  erected,  and  a  leaden 
plate  on  an  adjacent  pillar,  hung  there,  it  is  conjec- 
tured, by  Caxton,  with  an  inscription  by  '  a  poet  lau- 
reate,' Surigonius  of  Milan.^     It  was  not  till  Monument 

°  of  Chaucer, 

the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  that  the  present  tomb,  iwi. 

to  which  apparently  the   poet's  ashes  were   removed, 

was   raised,  near   the    grave,    by    Nicholas    Brigham, 

1  Godwin's  Life  of  Chaucer,  ii.  549,  641. 

2  Ibid.  ii.  5.53,  555. 

8  Galfridus  Chaucer,  vates  et  fama  poesis, 
Materna  hac  sacra  sum  tumulatus  humo.' 
(Winstanley's  Worthies,  p.  94.)    It  has  long  since  disappeared.     (See 
Godwin,  i.  5.) 


16 


THE   MONUMENTS 


himself  a  poet,  who  was  buried  close  beside,  with  his 
daughter  Eachel.^  The  inscription  closes  with  an 
echo  of  the  poet's  own  expiring  counsel,  '  ^Erumnarum 
rcquies  mors.'  Originally  the  back  of  the  tomb  con- 
tained a  portrait  of  Chaucer.^  The  erection  of  the 
monument  so  long  afterwards  shows  how  freshly  the 


CHAUCER  S   MONUMENT. 

fame  of  Chaucer  then  flourished,  and  accordingly, 
within  the  next  generation,  it  became  the  point  of 
attraction  to  the  hitherto  unexampled  burst  of  poets 
Spenser,       in  the  Elizabethan  age.     The  first  was  Spen- 

(liedJan.16,  ,t.      •  •        i         .1,  1 

1599.  ser.    His  interment  m  the  Abbey  was  perhaps 

suggested  by  the  fact  that  his  death  took  place  close 

1  Dart,  ii.  61. 

2  A  painted  window  above  the  tomb,  with  medallions  of  Chaucer 
and  Gower,  and  with  scenes  from  Chaucer's  life  and  poems,  presented 
by  Dr.  Rogers,  designed  by  Mr.  Waller,  and  executed  by  Messrs.  Baillie 
and  Raye,  supplied  this  loss  in  1868. 


OF  THE   POETS.  17 

by,  in  King  Street,  Westminster.     But  it  was  distinctly 
in  his  poetical  character  that  he  received  the 

!>         '  ^     p  -r^  -n      1        ■    ^^^  funeral. 

honours  of  a  luneral  irom  Devereux,  Earl  ot 
Essex.  His  hearse  was  attended  by  poets,  and  mourn- 
ful elegies  and  poems,  with  the  pens  that  wrote  them, 
were  thrown  into  his  tomb.  What  a  funeral  was  that 
at  which  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  Jonson,  and,  in  all  prob- 
ability, Shakspeare  attended  !  —  what  a  grave  in  which 
the  pen  of  Shakspeare  may  be  mouldering  away !  In 
the  original  inscription,  long  ago  effaced,  the  vicinity  to 
Chaucer  was  expressly  stated  as  the  reason  for  the 
selection  of  the  spot  — 

Hie  prope  Chaucerum  situs  est  Spenserius,  illi 
Proximus  ingenio,  proximus  et  tumulo.^ 

The  actual  monument  was  erected  by  Nicholas  Stone, 
at  the  cost  2  of  Ann  Clifford,  Countess  of  Dorset,  the 
great   'restorer   of   waste   places,'   and   after-  his 

.  monument 

wards    repaired    through    Mason    the    poet.'^  erected  i62o, 

,  ,  restored 

The  inscription,  in  pathos  and  simplicity,  is  i778. 
worthy  of  the  author  of  the  '  Faery  Queen,'  but  curious 
as  implying  the  unconsciousness  of  any  greater  than 
he,  at  that  very  time,  to  claim  the  title  then  given  him 
of  '  the  Prince  of  Poets.'  '  The  great  Spenser  keeps  the 
entry  of  the  Church,  in  a  plain  stone  tomb,  but  his 
works  are  more  glorious  than  all  the  marble  and  brass 
monuments  within.'  * 

1  Camden.     See  also  Winstanley's  Worthies,  p.  97:  — 

Dan  Chaucer,  well  of  English  undefiled, 

On  Fame's  eternal  bead-roll  to  be  filed, 

I  follow  here  the  footing  of  thy  feet 

That  with  thy  meaning  so  I  may  the  rather  meet. 

2  £40.     (Walpole's  Anecdotes  of  Painting,  241.) 

8  He  raised  a  subscription  for  '  restoring  it  in  durable  marble  instead 
of  mouldering  freestone,  correcting  the  mistaken  dates,  and  including 
it  in  an  iron  rail.'     (Chapter  Book,  April  13,  1778.) 

*  Tom  Brown,  iii.  228. 
VOL.  II. — 2 


18  THE  MONUMENTS 

The  neighbourhood  to  Chaucer,  thus   emphatically 

marked  as  the   cavise   of   Spenser's   grave,  is   noticed 

asain  and  again  at  each  successive  interment.     Beau- 

,     mont  was  the  next.     He  lies  still  nearer  to 

Beaumont, 

March  9,  Chaucer,^  under  a  nameless  stone  :  and  imme- 
died^A'prir'  diately  afterwards  came  the  cry  and  counter- 
burie^d  at  ciy  over  the  ashes  of  another,  who  died  within 
Stratford,  ^^iq  next  year,  both  suggested  by  the  close 
contiguity  of  these  poetic  graves : 

Renowned  Spenser,  lie  a  thought  more  nigh 
To  learned  Chaucer :  and,  rare  Beaumont,  lie 
A  little  nearer  Spenser,  to  make  room 
For  Shakspeare  in  your  threefold  fourfold  tomb.^ 

To  which  Ben  Jonson  replies : 

My  Shakspeare,  rise,  I  will  not  lodge  thee  by 
Chaucer  or  Spenser,  or  bid  Beaumont  lie 
A  little  farther  off  to  make  thee  room. 
Thou  art  a  monument  without  a  tomb. 
And  art  alive  still  while  thy  book  doth  live, 
And  we  have  wits  to  read,  and  praise  to  give. 

In  fact,  the  attempt  was  never  made.  Whether 
it  was  prevented  by  the  Poet's  own  anathema  on  any 
one  who  should  '  move  his  bones  or  dig  his  dust,'  or  by 
the  imperfect  recognition  of  liis  greatness,  in  Stratford 
His  he  still  lies ;    and   not   for   another   century 

monument,  •       n  q        i   .    ,  ■,       . 

erected  1740.  was  the  statuc  raiscd  ^  which  now  stands  m 
the  adjacent  aisle,  by  the  same  designer  who  planned 
the  monument  of  Newton,^  to  become  the  centre  of  the 
meditations  of  Poets,  and  of  the  tombs  of  Actors. 

1  At  the  entrance  of  St.  Benedict's  Chapel.  (Register.)  Fletcher 
is  buried  in  St.  Mary  Ovaries,  Southwark. 

-  Basse's  Elegy  on  Shakspeare  (163.3). 

3  Fuller's  Worthies  (iii.  288)  makes  his  body  to  have  been  buried 
near  his  monument. 

*  See  p.  169.    Home  (the  author  of  the  tragedy  of  Douglas),  wrote 


OF  THE  POETS,  19 

Next  followed  —  such  was  the  inequality  of  fortune 

—  Drayton,  of  whom,  after  the  lapse  of  not  much  more 
than  a  hundred  years,  Goldsmith,  in  his  visit  Michael 

•^  Drayton, 

to  the  Abbey,  could  say,  when  he  saw  his  diediesi. 
monument,  'Drayton!  I  never  heard  of  him  before.' 
Indeed  it  was  the  common  remark  of  London  gossips 

—  Drayton  'with  half  a  nose,  was  next,  whose  works 
are  forgotten  before  his  monument  is  worn  out.'^  But 
at  the  time  the  '  Polyolbion '  was  regarded  as  a  master- 
piece of  art.     It  is  probable  that  he  was  bur-  ^ 

1        -NT  9  gvave. 

ied  near  the  small  north  door  of  the  Nave.^ 
But  his  bust  was  erected  here  by  the  same  great  lady 
who  raised  that  to  Spenser.  Fuller,  in  his  quaint 
manner,  again  revives  their  joint  connection  with  the 
grave  of  their  predecessor :  — '  Chaucer  lies  buried  in 
the  south  aisle  of  St.  Peter's,  Westminster,  and  now 
hath  got  the  company  of  Spenser  and  Drayton,  a  pair 
royal  of  poets  enough  almost  to  make  passengers'  feet 
to  move  metrically,  who  go  over  the  place  where  so 
much  poetical  dust  is  interred.'^  How  little  the  ver- 
dict of  Goldsmith  was  then  anticipated  appears  from 
the  fine  lines  on  Drayton's  monument,  ascribed  both 
to  Ben  Jonson  and  to  Quarles,  which,  in  invoking  '  the 
pious   marble'    to   protect   his   memory,   predict    that 

when  its 

Ruin  shall  disclaim 
To  be  the  treasurer  of  his  fame, 
His  name,  that  cannot  fade,  shall  be 
An  everlasting  monument  to  thee. 

Ben  Jonson  —  who,  if  so  be,  speaks  on  this  bust  of 
Drayton's  exchanging  his  laurel  for  a  crown  of  glory, 

on  it  in  pencil  some  verses  expressive  of  his  disappointment  at  the  first 
failure  of  his  play.     (Life,  p.  31.)  i  Tom  Brown,  iii.  228. 

2  Heylin,  who  was  present,  and  Aubrey  {Lives,  335). 

8  Fuller,  Histori/,  a.  d.  1631. 


20  THE   MONUMENTS 

but  who  was,  in  fact,  the  first  unquestionable  laureate 
BenJonson,  — soou  followed.  Botli  liis  youth  and  age 
iQ,i(i:i^'  were  connected  with  Westminster.  He  was 
born  in  the  neighbourliood,  he  was  educated  in  the 
School,  and  his  last  years  were  spent  close  to  the 
Abbey,  in  a  house  that  once  stood  between  it  and  St. 
Margaret's  Church.^  This  renders  probable  the  story 
Ben  Jon-  ^^  ^^^  Selecting  his  own  grave,  where  it  was 
son's  grave,  afterwards  dug,  not  far  from  Drayton's.  Ac- 
cording to  the  local  tradition,  he  asked  the  King 
(Charles  I.)  to  grant  him  a  favour.  '  What  is  it  ? ' 
said  the  King.  — '  Give  me  eighteen  inches  of  square 
ground.'  '  Where  ? '  asked  the  King.  — '  In  Westmin- 
ster Abbey.'  This  is  one  explanation  given  of  the 
story  that  he  was  buried  standing  upright.  Another 
is  that  it  was  with  a  view  to  his  readiness  for  the 
Eesurrection.  'He  lies  buried  in  the  north  aisle  [of 
the  Nave],  in  the  path  of  square  stone  [the  rest  is 
lozenge],  opposite  to  the  scutcheon  of  Eobertus  de  Eos, 
with  this  inscription  only  on  him,  in  a  pavement- square 
of  blue  marble,  about  fourteen  inches  square, 
Inscription  O  rare  Ben  Johnson  !  ^ 

which  was  done  at  the  charge  of  Jack  Young  (after- 
wards knighted),  who,  walking  there  when  the  grave 
was  covering,  gave  the  fellow  eighteenpence  to  cut  it.'^ 
This  stone  was  taken  up  when,  in  1821,  the  Nave  was 
repaved,  and  was  brought  back  from  the  stoneyard  of 
the  clerk  of  the  works,  in  the  time  of  Dean  Buckland, 
by  whose  order  it  was  fitted  into  its  present  place  in 

1  Malone's  Historical  Accmmt  of  the  E)7ijUsh  Stage ;  Ynller'a  Worthies, 
ii.  425  ;  Aubrey's  Lives,  414. 

■^  He  is  called  Johnson  on  the  gravestone,  as  also  in  Clarendon's  Li/e 
(i.  34),  where  see  his  character. 

2  Aubrey's  Lives,  414.     His  burial  is  not  in  the  Register. 


r.i|^-'U/.i^^,„y,^_^VM«7mjiiii»^^ 


OF   THE   POETS.  21 

the  north  wall  of  the  Nave.  Meanwhile,  the  original 
spot  had  been  marked  by  a  small  triangular  lozenge, 
with  a  copy  of  the  old  inscription.  When,  in  1849, 
Sir  Eobert  Wilson  was  buried  close  by,  the  loose  sand 
of  Jonson's  grave  (to  use  the  expression  of  the  clerk 
of  the  works  who  superintended  the  operation)  '  rip- 
pled in  like  a  quicksand,'  and  the  clerk  '  saw  the  two 
leg-bones  of  Jonson,  fixed  bolt  upright  in  the  sand, 
as  though  the  body  had  been  buried  in  the  upright 
position ;  and  the  skull  came  rolling  down  among  the 
sand,  from  a  position  above  the  leg-bones,  to  the  bottom 
of  the  newly-made  grave.  There  was  still  hair  upon 
it,  and  it  was  of  a  red  colour.'  It  was  seen  once  more 
on  the  digging  of  John  Hunter's  grave ;  and  '  it  had 
still  traces  of  red  hair  upon  it.'  ^  The  world  long  won- 
dered that  '  he  should  lie  buried  from  the  rest  of  the 
poets  and  want^  a  tomb.'  This  monument,  in  fact, 
was  to  have  been  erected  by  subscription  soon  after 
his  death,  but  was  delayed  by  the  breaking  out  of  the 
Civil  War.  The  present  medallion  in  Poets'  Corner 
was  set  up  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century  by  'a 
person  of  quality,  whose  name  was  desired  to  be  con- 
cealed.' By  a  mistake  of  the  sculptor,  the  buttons 
were  set  on  the  left  side  of  the  coat.  Hence  this 
epigram — 

O  rare  Ben  Jonson  —  what  a  turncoat  grown ! 
Thou  ne'er  wast  such,  till  clad  in  stone : 
Then  let  not  this  disturb  thy  sprite, 
Another  age  shall  set  thy  buttons  right.* 

1  For  full  details,  see  Mr.  Frank  Buckland's  interesting  narrative 
in  Curiosities  of  Natural  History  (3rd  series),  ii.  181-189.  It  would 
seem  that,  in  spite  of  some  misadventures,  the  skull  still  remains  in  the 
grave. 

2  London  Spy,  p.  179.  ^  Seymour's  Stow,  ii.  512,  513. 


22  THE   MONUMENTS 

Apart  from  the  other  poets,  under  the  tomb  of  Henry 
v.,  is  Sir  ^  Eobert  Ayton,  secretary  to  the  two  Queens 
Bobert  cousort  of  the  time,  and  friend  of  Ben  Jonson, 
23,1637-8.  '  Drummond,  and  the  then  youthful  Hobbes. 
He  is  the  first  Scottish  poet  buried  here,  and  claims 
a  place  from  his  being  the  first  in  whose  verses  appears 
the  'Auld  Lang  Syne.'  His  bust  is  by  Farelli,  from 
a  portrait  by  Vandyck. 

There  is  a  pause  in  the  succession  during  the  troubled 
times  of  the  Civil  Wars.^  May,  who  had  unsuccessfully 
Thomas  Competed  with  the  wild  Cavalier  Sir  William 
i65o!  disfn-  Daveuant  for  the  laureateship,  and,  according 
terred  1G61.  ^^  Clarcndou,  On  that  account  thrown  himself 
into  the  Parliamentary  cause,  was  buried  here  as  poet 
and  historian  under  the  Commonwealth.  But  his  vacant 
William  gravc,  after  the  disinterment  of  his  remains, 
ApriTg"*'  received  his  rival  Davenant,  connected  with 
^^^^'  the  two  greatest  of  English  poetical  names  — 

with  Shakspeare  by  the  tradition  of  the  Stratford 
player's  intimacy  with  his  mother,  and  with  Milton  by 
the  protection  which  he  first  received  from  him,  and 
afterwards  procured  for  him,  in  their  respec- 

His  funeral.       .  q     tt-     p  i  t  t       •   i 

tive  reverses.*^  His  luneral  was  conducted  with 
the  pomp  due  to  a  laureate,  though,  to  the  great  grief 
of  Anthony  Wood,  '  the  wreath  was  forgot  that  should 
have  been  put  on  the  coffin '  *  of  walnut  wood,  which, 
according  to  Denham,  was  the  '  finest  coffin  he  had 
ever  seen.'  ^     Pepys,  who  was  present,  thought  that  the 

1  For  a  full  account  of  him,  see  Transactions  of  Historical  Societi/, 
i.  pt.  6,  pp.  113-220. 

2  For  May  see  Clarendon's  Life,  i.  39,  40 ;  and  for  au  indignant 
Eoyalist  epitaph,  the  Appendix  to  Crull,  p.  46. 

^  Maloue's  Histor/j  of  the  Stage. 

*  Ant.  Ox.  ii.  165. 

^  Aubrey's  Lives,  309.     He  was  present. 


OP  THE  POETS.  23 

'many  hackneys  made  it  look  like  the  funeral  of  a 
poor  poet.  He  seemed  to  have  many  children,  by  five 
or  six  in  the  first  mourning  coach.'  ^  On  his  grave  ^ 
was  repeated  the  inscription  of  Ben  Jonson,  '  0  rare 
Sir  William  Davenant ! ' 

In  the  preceding  year  three  poets  had  been  laid  in 
the  Abbey  —  two  of   transitory  name,  the  third  with 
the  grandest  obsequies  that  Poets'  Corner  ever  witnessed. 
In  March  was  buried  in  the  North  Transept  Dr.  W. 
Johnson,  '  Delight  of  the  Muses  and  Graces,  often  ship- 
wrecked, at  length  rests  in  this  harbour,  and  ^  joimson, 
his  soul  with  God  ;  whose  saying  was  —  God  ji'"ch  12, 
WITH  us.'^     In  July  the  South  Transept  re-  ^^*^*^^' 
ceived  Sir  Eobert  Stapleton,  a  staunch  Eoyalist,  though 
a  Protestant   convert,  translator  of   Musseus  sir  Robert 
and  Juvenal.'^     But  at  the  end  of  that  month,  fS^^^y 
Abraham    Cowley   died    at   Chertsey,   which  ^^'  ^*^^^- 
when  Charles  II.  heard,  he  said, '  Mr.  Cowley  cmwey!died 
has  not  left  a  better  man  in  England.'     Evelyn  f,"j.^ed\ug. 
was  at  his  burial,  though  'he  sneaked  from  ^'^*^'^- 
Church,'  and  describes  the  hundred   coaches 
of  noblemen,  bishops,  clergy,  and  all  the  wits  of  the 
town ;  and  adds,  still  harping  on  the  local  fitness,  he 
was  buried  '  next  Geoffrey  Chaucer,  ^  and  near  Spenser  * 
—  near  the  poet  whose  '  Faery  Queen,'  before  he  was 

1  Pepys's  Correspondence,  iv.  90. 

2  '  Near  the  vestry  door.'  (Register.)  '  Near  to  the  monument  of 
Dr.  Barrow.'  (Aubrey's  Lives,  309.)  The  stone  was  broken  up,  but 
was  replaced  in  1866. 

3  Died  March  4,  1666;  '  Subalmoner,  buried  near  the  Convocation 
door,'  west  side  of  North  Cross,  March  12,  1666-67.  (Crull.  j).  280; 
Register.) 

*  Died  July  11,  1669  ;  was  buried  in  South  Transept  near  the  west- 
ern door,  July  15.     Register.     (Seymour's  Slow,  ii.  .556;  Dari;,  ii.  62.) 

s  '  Mr.  Cowly,  a  famous  poet,  was  buried  near  to  Chaucer's  monu- 
ment.'    (Register.) 


24  THE  MONUMENTS 

twelve  years, '  filled  his  head  with  such  chimes  of  verses 
as  never  since  left  ringing  there.'  The  urn  was  erected 
by  George  Villiers,  second  Duke  of  Buckingham.  The 
The  um.  inscription  —  which  compares  him  to  Pindar, 
The  inscrip-  Virgil,  and  Horace,  and  which,  for  its  Pagan 
*'°°'  phraseology,    could   never    be    read    by    Dr. 

Johnson  without  indignation  —  was  by  Dean  Sprat,  his 
biographer.  How  deeply  fixed  was  the  sense  of  his 
fame  appears  from  the  lines,  striking  even  in  their 
exaggeration,  which,  speaking  of  his  burial,  describe, 
with  the  recollection  of  the  great  conflagration  still 
fresh,  that  the  best  security  for  Westminster  Abbey 
was  that  it  held  the  grave  of  Cowley :  ^ 

That  sacrilegious  fire  (which  did  last  year 
Level  those  piles  which  Piety  did  rear) 
Dreaded  near  that  majestic  church  to  fly, 
Where  English  kings  and  English  poets  lie. 
It  at  an  awful  distance  did  expire, 
Such  pow'r  had  sacred  ashes  o'er  that  fire ; 
Such  as  it  durst  not  near  that  structure  come 
Which  fate  had  order'd  to  be  Cowley's  tomb ; 
And  't  will  be  still  preserved,  by  being  so, 
From  what  the  rage  of  future  flames  can  do. 
Material  fire  dares  not  that  place  infest, 
Where  he  who  had  immortal  flame  does  rest. 
There  let  his  urn  remain,  for  it  was  fit 
Among  our  kings  to  lay  the  King  of  Wit. 
By  which  the  structure  more  renown'd  will  prove 
For  that  part  bury'd  than  for  all  above.'-^ 

But  the  most  effective  glorification  at  once  of  Cowley 
John  and  of  Poets'  Corner  was  that  which  came 

March'23,  from  his  friend  Sir  John  Denham,  who,  with- 
1668-9.         ^^  ^  £g^^  months,  was  laid  by  his  side,  in  the 

1  Pepys,  iii.  325,  v.  24.  2  British  Poets,  v.  213. 


OF  THE  POETS.  25 

ground  which  he  knew  so  well  how  to  appreciate,  and 
who,  after  describing  how 

Old  Chaucer,  like  the  morning  star,  to  us  discovers  day  from  far; 

how  — 

Next,  like  Aurora,  Spenser  rose,  whose  purple  blush  the  day 
foreshows ; 

how  Shakspeare,  Jonson,  Fletcher, 

With  their  own  fires, 

Phoebus,  the  poet's  god,  inspires  ; 

and  then  curses  the  fatal  hour  that  in  Cowley 

Pluck'd 
The  fairest,  sweetest  flow'r  that  in  the  Muses'  garden  grew.^ 

If  the  fame  of  Cowley  has  now  passed  away,  it  is  not 
so  with  the  poet  who,  like  him,  was  educated  ^  j^j^^ 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Abbey,  and  was  .ViedVayi, 
laid  beside  him.  Convert  as  Dryden  had  be-  ^^^^' 
come  to  the  Church  of  Eome,  and  powerfully  as  he  had 
advocated  the  claims  of  the  '  Hind '  against  the  '  Pan- 
ther,' Sprat  (who  was  Dean  at  the  time),  as  soon  as  he 
heard  of  his  death,  undertook  to  remit  all  the  fees,  and 
offered  himself  to  perform  the  rites  of  interment  in  the 
Abbey.  Lord  Halifax  offered  to  pay  the  expenses  of 
the  funeral,  with  £500  for  a  monument.  It  is  difficult 
to  know  how  to  treat  the  strange  story  of  the  infamous 
practical  jest  by  which  the  son  of  Lord  Jeffreys  broke 
up  the  funeral  on  the  pretext  of  making  it  more  spleu'^ 
did :  the  indignation  of  the  Dean,  who  had  '  the  Abbey 
lighted,  the   ground  opened,  the  Choir  attending,  an 

1  '  On  Mr.  Abraham  Cowley's  Death  and  Burial  among  tlie  Ancient 
Poets.'     {BritisJi  Poets,  v.  214.) 

2  The  name  of  '  J.  Dryden '  is  still  to  be  seen  carved  on  a  bench  in 
Westminster  School,  in  the  characters  of  the  time,  though  not  in 
Dryden's  own  orthography. 


26  THE   MONUMENTS 

anthem  ready  set,  and  himself  waiting  without  a  corpse 
to  bury; '  and  the  anger  of  the  poet's  son,  who  watched 
till  the  death  of  Jeffreys,  with  '  the  utmost  application,' 
for  an  opportunity  of  revenge.^  At  any  rate,  twelve 
days  after  Dryden's  death,  his  '  deserving  reliques ' 
were  lodged  in  the  College  of  Physicians.  There  a 
Dryden's       Latin  culogy  was  pronounced  by  Sir  Samuel 

funeral,  May  ,      ,   •  ,„  ,       , 

13, 1700.  Garth,  himself  at  once  a  poet  and  physician, 
and  also  wavering  between  scepticism  and  Eoman 
Catholicism :  and  thence  '  an  abundance  of  quality  in 
their  coaches  and  six  horses  '  ^  accompanied  the  hearse 
with  funeral  music,  singing  the  ode  of  Horace,  Excgi 
inonumcntuni  cere,  'percnnms ;^  and  the  Father,  as  he 
has  been  called,  of  modern  English  Poetry  was  laid 
almost  in  the  very  sepulchre"^  of  the  Father 

His  grave. 

of  ancient  English  Poetry,  whose  gravestone 
was  actually  sawn  asunder  to  make  room  for  his  monu- 
ment. That  monument  was  long  delayed.  But  so  com- 
pletely had  his  grave  come  to  be  regarded  as  the  most 
interesting  spot  in  Poets'  Corner,  that  Pope,  in  writing 
the  epitaph  for  Rowe,  could  pay  him  no  higher  honour 
than  to  show  how  his  monument  pointed  the  way  to 
Dryden's  :^ 

Thy  reliques,  Rowe,  to  this  fair  urn  we  trust, 
And,  sacred,  place  by  Dryden's  awful  dust. 
Beneath  a  rude  and  nameless  stone  he  lies, 
To  which  thy  tomb  shall  guide  inquiring  eyes.' 

1  Johnson's  Lives,  iii.  367-69.  The  story  is  partly  confirmed  by  the 
London  Spy,  p.  417. 

2  London  Spij  (p.  418),  who  saw  it  from  Chancery  Lane  (p.  424). 

3  Postman  and  Postliaq,  May  14,  1700. 

*  '  Mr.  Dryden  is  lately  dead,  who  will  be  buried  in  Chaucer's 
grave,  and  have  his  monument  erected  by  Lord  Dorset  and  Lord 
Montagu.'     (Pepys's  Correspondence,  v.  321.) 

5  '  At  Chaucer's  feet,  without  any  name,  lies  John  Dryden  his  ad- 
mirer, and  truly  the  English  Maro.'     (Tom  Brown,  in.  228.) 

<>  Pope,  iii.  369. 


OF  THE  POETS.  27 

The  '  rude  and  nameless  stone '  roused  the  attention 
of  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  who  in  consequence 
raised  the  present  monument.      For  the  in-  Hismoau- 
scription  Pope  and  Atterbury  were  long  in  ™"' " 
earnest  correspondence : 

What  do  you  think  [says  Atterbury]  of  some  such  short 
inscription  as  this  in  Latin,  which  may,  in  a  few  Theinscrip- 
words,  say  all  that  is  to  be  said  of  Dryden,  and 
yet  nothing  more  than  he  deserves  ]  — 

lOHANNI    DRYDENO, 

CVI    POESIS   AXGLICAXA 

VIM    SVAil    AC   VENERES    DEBET; 

ET    SI    QVA    IN    POSTERVM    AVGEBITVR   LAVDE, 

EST    ADHVC    DEBITVRA  : 

HONORIS    ERGO    P.    ctC. 

To  show  you  that  I  am  as  much  in  earnest  in  the  affair  as 
yourself,  something  I  will  send  you  too  of  this  kind  in  Eng- 
lish. If  your  design  holds  of  fixing  Dryden's  name  only 
below,  and  his  busto  above,  may  not  lines  like  these  be 
graved  just  under  the  name'?  — 

This  Sheffield  rais'd,  to  Dryden's  ashes  just, 
Here  fixed  his  name,  and  there  his  laurel'd  bust ; 
What  else  the  Muse  in  marble  might  express, 
Is  known  already ;  praise  would  make  him  less. 

Or  thus  ? 

]\Iore  needs  not;  where  acknowledg'd  merits  reign, 
Praise  is  impertinent,  and  censure  vain.^ 

Pope   improved   upon   these   suggestions,   and    finally 

wrote  — 

This  Sheffield  raised :  the  sacred  dust  below 

Was  Dryden's  once  —  the  rest  who  does  not  know? 

This  was  afterwards  altered  into  the  present  plain  in- 
scription ;  and  the  bust  erected  by  the  Duke  was  ex- 
1  Pope,  ix.  199, 


28  THE   MONUMENTS 

changed  for  a  finer  one  by  Scheemakers,  put  up  by  the 
Duchess,  with  a  pyramid  behind  it.^  So  the  monu- 
ment remained  till  our  own  day,  when  Dean  Buckland, 
with  the  permission  of  the  surviving  representative  of 
the  poet,  Sir  Henry  Dryden,  removed  all  except  the 
simple  bust  and  pedestal. 

Bust  of  Opposite  Dryden's  monument  is  the  bust  of 

buried  at'      his  forgottcn  rival,  and  victim  of  his  bitterest 

Chelsea, 

Nov.  24,       satire : 

1692. 

Others  to  some  faint  meaning  make  pretence, 
But  Sliadwell  never  deviates  into  sense. 

Dryden's  son  had  intended  a  longer  inscription,^  but 

Sprat  suppressed  it,  on  the  ground  of   an    exception 

which  some  of  the  clergy  had  made  to  it,  as  '  being  too 

great  an  encomium  on  plays  to  be  set  up  in  a  church.' 

Not  in  Poets'  Corner,  but  near  the  steps  leading  to  the 

Confessor's  Chapel,  was  buried,  Jan.  24,  1684-85,  Lord 

Eoscommon, 

In  all  Charles's  days, 
Eoscommon  only  boasts  unspotted  lays. 

His  last  words  were  from  his  own  translation  of  the 
'  Dies  Irae : ' 

My  God,  my  Father,  and  my  Friend, 

Do  not  forsake  me  in  my  end. 

These  names  close  the  seventeenth  century  and 
begin  the  eighteenth.  Another  race  appears,  of  whom 
the  monuments  follow  in  quick  succession.  By  his  con- 
nection with  Westminster  School,  by  his  friendship  with 
George  Step-  Moutagu  and  Prior,  by  his  diplomatic  honours, 
22, 1707.  "      rather  than  by  his  verses,  George  Stepney,^ 

1  Akerman,  ii.  89.  ~  Crnll,  ii.  42,  where  it  is  given. 

3  One  of  his  poems  relates  to  the  Abbey  —  his  elegy  on  the  fimeral 
of  Mary  II.,  in  whom  he  had  hoped 

'  With  heighten'd  reverence  to  have  seen 
The  hoary  grandeur  of  au  aged  Queen.' 


OF  THE  POETS.  29 

—  who  was  thought  by  his  contemporaries  '  a  much 
greater  man  '  than  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel,^  and  '  whose 
juvenile  compositions'  were  then  believed  to  have 
'  made  gray-headed  authors  blush,'  ^  —  has  his  ^ ,    ^, .,. 

*=>      "^  John  Philips, 

bust   and    grave   iust   outside   the   Transept,  died  and 

o  J  J.         buried  at 

But  within,  on  the  right  of  Chaucer's  tomb,  ^^^®^°''*^ 
is  the  monument  of  John  Philips,  erected 
by  his  friend  Sir  Simon  Harcourt,  and  claiming  in  its 
inscription  to  close  the  south  side  of  the  Father  of 
English  Poetry,  as  Cowley  closes  the  north.  His 
*  Splendid  Shilling  '  and  '  Cyder '  are  now  amongst  the 
forgotten  curiosities  of  literature.  But  his  epitaph  has 
a  double  interest.  With  its  wreath  of  apples  (Honos 
erit  huic  quoqite  porno),  it  recounts  his  celebrity  at  that 
time  as  the  master,  almost  the  inventor,  of  the  difficult 
art  of  blank  verse,  and  it  also  indicates  the  gradual  rise 
of  another  fame  far  greater.  Philips  himself  Monument 
had  been  devoted  to  Milton's  poems,  as  "f^^'i'i's- 
models  for  his  own  feeble  imitations ;  and  the  partial 
patron  who  composed  the  inscription  on  his  tomb  has 
declared  that  in  this  field  he  was  second  to  Milton 
alone  :  '  Uni  Miltono  seamdus  primoque  pcene  par.'  It 
is  disputed  whether  Smalridge,  Freind,  or  Atterbury 
was  the  author.  If  (as  is  most  probable)  Atterbury, 
the  emphasis  laid  on  Philips's  proficiency  is  ^^  ^  ^  ^^^^ 
the  expression  of  his  own  partiality  '  against 
rhyme  and  in  behalf  of  blank  verse  '  — '  without  the 
least  prejudice,  being  himself  equally  incapable  of  writ- 
ing in  either  of  those  ways.'^  The  antiquary  Crull 
happened  to  be  copying  the  inscription,  and  he  had 
nearly  reached  these  lines,  when  he  was  told, '  by  a  per- 
son of  quality,'  to  desist  from  what  he  was  about,  for 

1  Dart,  ii.  83.       ^  Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets.       ^  Pope,  viii.  188. 


30  THE   MONUMENTS 

that  there  '  was  an  alteration  to  be  made.'  Crull  put 
up  his  papers,  and  pretended  to  leave.  '  My  Lord  went 
out,'  and  Crull  immediately  returned,  and  was  informed 
that  these  lines  were  to  be  erased,  and  that  '  his  Lord- 
ship '  (Bishop  Sprat,  then  Dean)  '  had  forbidden  the 
cutting  of  them,'  Crull '  was  the  more  eagerly  resolved 
to  finish  the  inscription,'  '  as  it  was  originally  composed 
by  the  learned  Dr.  Smalridge.'  ^  The  next  day  he 
found  the  two  lines  wholly  obliterated.  The  objection 
was  not,  as  might  have  been  supposed,  to  their  intrinsic 
absurdity,  but  because  the  Eoyalist  Dean  would  not 
allow  the  name  of  the  regicide  Milton  to  be  engraved 
Milton,         on  the  walls  of  Westminster  Abbey .^   Another 

diedlG74,  \         . 

buried  in      four    vcars   and    the    excommunication    was 

St.  Giles's,  1.1  1  1  P         T,r-i 

crippiegate.  reiuoved.  Attcrbury  —  whose  love  tor  Mil- 
ton^ was  stronger  even  than  his  legitimist  principles, 
and  who,  in  his  last  farewell  ^  to  the  Westminster 
Monument     scliolars,  vcuted  his  grief  in  the  pathetic  lines 

erected,  i   •    i        i  i 

1737.  which  close  the  '  Paradise  Lost '  —  was   now 

Dean,  and  the  obnoxious  lines  were  admitted  within 
the  walls  of  the  Abbey.  Another  four  years  yet  again, 
and  the  criticism  in  the  '  Spectator '  had  given  expres- 
sion to  the  irresistible  feeling  of  admiration  growing 
in  every  English  heart.  '  Such  was  the  change  of  pub- 
lic opinion,'  ^  said  Dr.  Gregory  to  Dr.  Johnson,  '  that  I 
have  seen  erected  in  the  church  a  bust  of  that  man 
whose  name  I  once  knew  considered  as  a  pollution  of  its 

1  Crull,  pp.  343,  345. 

2  '  Un  nomme  Miltonus,  qui  s'est  rendu  plus  infarae  par  ses  danger- 
eux  Merits  que  les  bourreaux  et  les  assassins  de  leur  roi.'  (French 
Ambassador  in  App.  to  Pepys's  Correspondence,  v.  4.52.) 

8  See  Atterbury's  remarks  on  the  French  translation  of  'Paradise 
Lost.'     (Letters,  iv.  229.) 

*  See  Chapter  VI.     See  also  his  letters  to  Pope.     (Pope,  viii.  233.) 
8  A  curious  instance  of  the  change  is  given  in  the  successive 


OF  THE  POETS.  31 

walls.'    It  is  indeed  a  triumpli  of  the  force  of  truth  and 
genius,  such  as  of  itself  hallows  the  place  which  has 
witnessed  it.     And  if  this  late  testimony  was  rendered 
to  ]\Iilton  (as  a  like  late  acknowledgment  had  ganmei 
a  few  years  ^  before  been  rendered  to  Samuel  ^edTe'so, 
Butler,  the  author  of  '  Hudibras ')  not,  as  in  the  llZ%''' 
case  of  Spenser,  Cowley,  and  Dryden,  by  dukes  dmrchyard ; 
and  duchesses,  but  by  an  obscure  citizen  of  "recte^^"* 
London,^  the  fact,  so  far  from  deserving  the  ^^^^' 
cynical  remarks  of  Pope,  only  adds  to  the  interest,  by  the 
proof  afforded  of  the  wide  and  (as  it  were)  subterran- 
eous diffusion  of  the  fame  of  the  once  neglected  poet, 
who,  though '  fallen  on  evil  days,'  at  last  received  his  re- 
ward.    Probably  it  was  this  stimulus  which  ofshak- 
roused  the  public  subscription  for  the  statue  ^peare,  1740. 
of  Shakspeare,  which  in  1740  was  finally  erected  with 
the  inscription  from  the  '  Tempest,'  which  certainly  well 
fits  its  application  under  the  shadow  of  the  '  cloudcapt 
towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces,  and  the  solemn  temples ' 
of  Westminster. 

editions  of  ShefiSeld's  Essay  on  Poetry.    In  the  first  edition  the  epic 

poet 

'  Must  above  Milton's  lofty  flights  prevail, 
Succeed  where  great  Torquato  and  where  greater  Spenser  fail.' 

In  the  last  — 

'  Must  above  Tasso's  lofty  flights  prevail, 
Succeed  where  Spenser  and  ev'n  Milton  fail.* 

(Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets,  ii.  155.) 

1  William  Lougueville,  of  the  Inner  Temple,  patron  of  Butler,  who 
vainly  endeavored  to  provide  for  his  friend's  interment  in  the  Abbey, 
was  himself  buried  in  the  North  Ambulatory,  1720. 

2  Benson,  the  auditor,  erected  the  monument  to  Milton  in  1737; 
Barber,  the  printer,  and  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  that  to  Butler  in  1732. 

'  On  poets'  tombs  see  Benson's  titles  writ,' 

is  Pope's  line  in  the  '  Dunciad ; '  and  when  asked  for  an  inscription 
for  Shakspeare's  monument,  he  suggested 

'  Thus  Britons  love  me,  and  preserve  my  fame, 
free  fcoiu  a,  Barber's  or  a  Bensou's  name.' 


32  THE  MONUIMENTS 

It  is  curious  to  mark  how  immediately  these  new 

objects  of  interest  draw  to  their  neighbourhood  the  lesser 

satellites    of    fame.      Nicholas    Eowe,    poet- 

Nicholas  '■ 

?°V«!  ^       laureate  and  translator  of  Lucan,  was  buried 

buried  Dec. 

19, 1718.  ]jgj.Q  I, J  Atterbury,  from  his  feeling  for  his  old 
schoolfellow.!  His  monument,  which  Pope  had  designed 
to  act  as  a  conductor  to  the  tomb  of  Dryden,^  by  the 
time  that  it  was  erected  claimed  kindred  with  this 
mightier  brother  of  the  art  — 

Thy  reliques,  Rowe,  to  this  sad  shrine  we  trust, 
And  near  thy  Shakspeare  ^  place  thy  honour'd  dust. 

Peace  to  thy  gentle  shade,  and  endless  rest, 
Blest  in  thy  genius,  in  thy  love  too  blest  I 

Its  conclusion  had  originally  stood,  before  Buckingham 
had  erected  the  tomb  to  Dryden  — 

One  grateful  woman  to  thy  fame  supplies 
What  a  whole  thankless  land  to  his  denies. 

It  now  commemorates  the  grief  of  the  poet's  wife  -^ 

And  blest  that,  timely  from  our  scene  remov'd, 
Thy  soul  enjoys  the  liberty  it  lov'd. 
To  thee,  so  mourn'd  in  death,  so  lov'd  in  life, 
The  childless  parent  and  the  widow'd  wife 
With  tears  inscribes  this  monumental  stone, 
That  holds  thine  ashes  and  expects  her  own.* 

And  this,  in  turn,  was  falsified  by  the  remarriage  of  the 
widow  (whose  effigy  surmounts  the  bust)  to  Colonel 
Deane. 

1  Biog.  Brit.  V.  3522.  2  gee  p.  120. 

3  There  was  a  propriety  in  this  allusion  from  Rowe's  plays  —  espe- 
cially Jane  Shore,  'perhaps  the  best  acting  tragedy  after  Shakspeare 's 
days.'  Dean  Milman  told  me  that  Mrs.  Siddons  used  to  say  that  cue 
line  in  Jane  Shore  was  the  most  effective  she  ever  uttered  — '  'T  was  he 
— 't  was  Hastings.'  *  Pope,  iii.  365. 


OF  THE   POETS.  33 

Three  dubious  names  close  this  period.  In  Poets' 
Corner  lies  the  old  voluptuary  patriarch  of  Charles  II.'s 
wits,  St.  Evremond,  Governor  of  Duck  Island,  st.  exts- 

inoiifl,  Sept. 

who  died  beyond  the  age  of  90.     Although  a  n,  nos. 
Frenchman  and,  nominally  at  least,  a  Roman  Catholic, 
he  was  buried  amongst  the  English  poets,  and,  in  spite 
of  his  questionable  writings,  was  com  memo-  Aphara 

^  °  .  Behu,  April 

rated  here,  '  inter  prcestantiores  cevi  sui  scrip-  20,  i6S9. 
tores'  1     Aphara  Behn,^  the  notorious  novelist,  happily 
has  not  reached  beyond  the  East  Cloister.    Her  epitaph 

ran  — 

Here  lies  a  proof  that  wit  can  never  be 
Defence  enough  against  mortaUty. 

Beside  her  lies  her  facetious  friend,  the  scandalous 
satirist  and  essayist,  Tom  Brown,  who  had  TomBro\ra 
defiled  and  defied  the  Abbey  during  his  whole  ^^*'^- 
literary  life.  The  inscription  prepared  for  him  has  by 
this  juxtaposition  a  meaning  which  Dr.  Drake,  its 
author,  never  intended  —  Inter  concclebres  requicscit.^ 

Next   came  the   age   of   the  '  Tatler '  and  g^^gj^^  ^739. 
'Spectator.'     Steele,  editor  of  the  first,  is  bur-  Dec; fo,*^®^®' 
ied  at  his  seat  near  Carmarthen.     His  second  ^^^^" 
wife,  '  his   dearest   Prue,'   is  laid  amongst  the  poets.* 

1  St.  Evremond  'died  renouncing  the  Christian  rehgion.  Yet  the 
Church  of  Westminster  thought  fit  to  give  his  body  room  in  the  Abbey, 
and  to  allow  him  to  be  buried  there  gratis.'  The  monument  was 
erected  by  one  of  the  Prebendaries,  Dr.  Birch,  'on  account  of  the  old 
acquaintance  between  St.  Evremond  and  his  patron  Waller.'  Such 
is  the  cynical  account  of  Atterbury.     (Letters,  iii.  117,  125.) 

'■^  In  the  Register  she  is  called  '  Astrea  Behn,'  as  in  Pope's  line  — 
'  The  stage  how  loosely  does  Astraea  tread  ! ' 

3  Crull,  p.  346.  Mr.  Lodge  has  suggested  to  me  that  his  burial  at 
Westminster  is  in  some  degree  explained,  or  at  least  illustrated,  by  the 
fact  that  he  was  chosen  to  write  the  inscription  on  Bishop  Fell's  monu- 
ment in  Christ  Church,  Oxford  (Brown's  Works,  iv.  255,  7th  ed.), 
which  was  the  more  remarkable  as  coming  from  the  author  of  the 
famous  epigram  on  Dr.  Fell. 

*  For  their  correspondence  see  Thackeray's  Humourists  (pp.  137-46). 

VOL.  II. —  3 


34  THE  MONUMENTS 

But  tlie  great  funeral  of  this  circle  is  that  of  Addison. 
The  last  serene  moments  of  his  life  were  at  Warwick 
House.     '  See  how  a  Christian  can  die.' 

His  body  lay  in  state  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  and 
was  borne  thence  to  the  Abbey  at  dead  of  night.  The  choir 
Joseph  sang  a  funeral  hymn.     Bishop  Atterbury,  one  of 

died  June  17,  those  Tories  who  had  loved  and  honoured  the 
26,  i7ia  most  accomplished  of  the  Whigs,  met  the  corpse, 
His  funeral,  and  led  the  procession  by  torchlight,  round  the 
shrine  of  St.  Edward  and  the  graves  of  the  Plantagenets,  to 
the  Chapel  of  Henry  VII.i 

The  spot  selected  was  the  vault  in  the  north  aisle  of 
that  Chapel,  in  the  eastern  recess  ^  of  which  already  lay 
the  coffins  of  Monk  and  his  wife,  ]\Iontague  Earl  of 
Sandwich,  and  the  two  Halifaxes.  Craggs  was  to  fol- 
low within  a  year.  Into  that  recess,  doubtless  in  order 
to  rest  by  the  side  of  his  patron,  Montague  Earl  of 
Halifax,  the  coffin  of  Addison  was  lowered.  At  the 
head  of  the  vault,  Atterbury  officiated  as  Dean,  in  his 
prelate's  robes.  Eound  him  stood  the  Westminster 
scholars,  with  their  white  tapers,  dimly  lighting  up  the 
fretted  aisle.  One  ^  of  them  has  left  on  record  the  deep 
impression  left  on  them  by  the  unusual  energy  and 
solemnity  of  Atterbury's  sonorous  voice.  Close  by  was 
the  faithful  friend  of  the  departed  —  Tickell,  who  has 
described  the  scene  in  poetry  yet  more  touching  than 
Macaulay's  prose :  — 

^  Macaulay's  Essaj/s  (8vo.  1853),  iii.  443. 
.    2  The  opening  to  the  vault  is  immediately  on  entering  the  north 
aisle  of  the  Chapel.     Its  nearer  or  western  division  was  at  that  time 
empty.    I  describe  the  locality  as  I  myself  saw  it  at  night  when  the 
vault  was  opened  in  1867.     See  Appendix. 

•  Autobiography  of  Bishop  Newton. 


OF   THE  POETS.  35 

Can  I  forget  the  dismal  night  that  gave 
My  soul's  best  pai't  for  ever  to  the  grave  ? 
How  silent  did  his  old  companions  tread, 
By  midnight  lamps,  the  mansions  of  the  dead. 
Through  breathing  statues,  then  unheeded  things. 
Through  rows  of  warriors,  and  through  walks  of  kinoes  1 
What  awe  did  the  slow  solemn  knell  inspire, 
The  pealing  organ  and  the  pausing  choir ; 
The  duties  by  the  lawn-rob'd  prelate  pay'd  : 
And  the  last  words  that  dust  to  dust  convey'd  I 
While  speechless  o'er  thy  closing  grave  we  bend, 
Accept  these  tears,  thou  dear  departed  friend. 
Oh,  gone  for  ever  ;  take  this  long  adieu  ; 
And  sleep  in  peace,  next  thy  lov'd  Montague. 
Ne'er  to  those  chambers  where  the  mighty  rest 
Since  their  foundation  came  a  nobler  guest : 
Nor  e'er  was  to  the  bowers  of  bliss  convey'd 
A  fairer  spirit  or  more  welcome  shade. 

*  It  is  strange  that  neither  his  opulent  and  noble  widow, 
nor  any  of  his  powerful  and  attached  friends,  should  have 
thought  of  placing  even  a  simple  tablet,  inscribed  with  his 
name,  on  the  walls  of  the  Abbey.  It  was  not  till  three  gen- 
erations had  laughed  and  wept  over  his  pages  that  the  omis- 
sion was  supplied  by  the  public  veneration.  At  length,  in 
our  own  time,  his  image,  skilfully  graven,  appeared  in  Poet's 
Corner.^     It  represents  him,  as  we  can  conceive    „ 

'■  _  Monument 

him,  clad  in  his  dressing-gown,  and  freed  from  his    of  Addison, 

,  .  ,  ^,     ,  .  erected  1808. 

wig,  stepping  from  his  parlour  at  Chelsea  into  his 
trim  little  garden,  with  the  account  of  the  Everlasting  Club, 
or  the  Loves  of  Hilpa  and  Shalum,  just  finished  for  the  next 
day's  "  Spectator,"  in  his  hand.  Such  a  mark  of  national  re- 
spect was  due  to  the  unsullied  statesman,  to  the  accomplished 
scholar,  to  the  master  of  pure  English  eloquence,  to  the  coii- 

1  The  intention  of  placing  the  monument  on  the  grave  of  Thomas 
of  Woodstock,  inside  the  Confessor's  Chapel,  was  happily  frustrated. 
{Gent.  Mag.,  1808,  p.  1088.)  The  face  was  copied  by  Westmacott  from 
the  portraits  in  the  Kitcat  collection,  and  in  Queen's  College,  Oxford. 


36  THE  MONUMENTS 

summate  painter  of  life  and  manners.  It  was  due,  above  all, 
to  the  great  satirist,  who  alone  knew  how  to  nse  ridicule  with- 
out abusing  it  —  who,  without  inflicting  a  wound,  effected  a 
great  social  reform,  and  who  reconciled  wit  and  virtue  after 
a  long  and  disastrous  separation,  during  which  Avit  had  been 
led  astray  by  profligacy,  and  virtue  by  fanaticism.'  ^ 

Ten  years  after  followed  a  funeral  of  which  the  in- 
ward contrast  in  the  midst  of  outward  likeness  to  that 
of  Addison  is  complete.  As  he,  for  the  sake  of  his 
beloved  patron,  Montague,  had  been  laid  apart  from  the 
rest  of  the  poetic  tribe  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Tudors,  in 
William        the  far  east  of  the  Church,  so  Congreve  was 

Congreve, 

died  Jan.  19,  laid  almost  completely  separated  from  them 

buried  Jan.  -^  ./  j. 

26, 1728-9.  in  the  Nave,  in  the  neighbourhood  if  not  in 
His  funeral,  ^hc  vault  of  his  patrouess  —  Henrietta  Godol- 
phin,  the  second  Duchess  of  Marlborough.  By  that 
questionable  alliance  he,  amongst  the  Westminster 
notables,  the  worst  corrupter,  as  Addison  the  noblest 
purifier,  of  English  literature,  was  honoured  with  a 
sumptuous  funeral,  also  from  the  Jerusalem  Cham- 
ber ;  and  with  the  same  strange  passion  which  caused 
the  Duchess  to  have  a  statue  of  him  in  ivory,  moving 
by  clockwork,  placed  daily  at  her  table,  and  a  wax  doll, 
whose  feet  were  regularly  blistered  and  anointed  by  the 
doctors,  as  Congreve's  had  been  when  he  suffered  from 
the  gout,^  she  erected  the  monument  to  him  at  the 
west  end  of  the  church,  commemorating  the  '  happiness 
and  honour  which  she  had  enjoyed  in  her  intercourse.' 
'  Happiness,  perhaps,'  exclaimed  her  inexorable  mother, 
the   ancient  Sarah  ;   *  she  cannot  say  honour ! '     Yet, 

1  Macaulay's  Essays  (8vo.  1853),  iii.  443.  —  To  this  raust  be  added 
the  recent  inscription  of  Tickell's  verses  over  his  grave  by  Lord 
.Ellesmere. 

2  Macaulay's  Essays,  vi.  531. 


OF   THE  POETS.  37 

though  private  partiality  may  have  fixed  the  spot,  his 
burial  in  the  Abbey  was  justified  by  the  fame  which 
attracted  the  visit  of  Voltaire  to  him,  as  to  the  chief 
representative  of  English  literature ;  ^  which  won  from 
Dryden  the  praise  of  being  next  to  Shakspeare ;  from 
Steele  the  homage  of  '  Great  Sir,  great  author,'  whose 
•  awful  name  was  known '  by  barbarians  ;  and  from 
Pope,  the  Dedication  of  the  Iliad,  and  the  title  of  Ulti- 
mus  Ronumorum.  And  there  is  a  fitness  in  the  place 
of  his  monument,  '  of  the  finest  Egyptian  mar-  ^^^  ^^^^^_ 
ble,'  by  the  door  where  many,  who  there  enjoy  ™'^'^*^- 
their  first  view  of  the  most  venerable  of  English  sanc- 
tuaries, may  thankfully  recall  the  impressive  lines  in 
which  he,  with  a  feeling  beyond  his  age,  first  de- 
scribed the  effect  of  a  great  cathedral  on  the  awestruck 
beholder  — 

All  is  husli'd  and  still  as  death.  —  'T  is  dreadful ! 
How  reverend  is  the  face  of  this  tall  pile, 
Whose  ancient  pillars  rear  their  marble  heads, 
To  bear  aloft  its  arch'd  and  ponderous  roof, 
By  its  own  weight  made  stedfast  and  immovable, 
Looking  tranquillity  !     It  strikes  an  awe 
And  terror  on  my  aching  sight ;  the  tombs 
And  monumental  caves  of  death  look  cold, 
And  shoot  a  chillness  to  my  trembling  heart. 

He  who  reads  these  lines  enjoys  for  a  moment  the  powers 
of  a  poet ;  he  feels  what  he  remembers  to  have  felt  before  ; 
but  he  feels  it  with  great  increase  of  sensibility  :  he  recog- 
nises a  familiar  image,  but  meets  it  again  amplified  and 
expanded,  embellished  with  beauty,  and  enlarged  with 
majesty.'^ 

^  Congreve  himself  judged  more  wisely.  '  I  wish  to  be  visited  on 
no  other  footing  than  as  a  gentleman  who  leads  a  life  of  plainness  and 
simplicity.'  Such  is  his  appearance  on  his  monument.  (See  the  whole 
story  discussed  in  Thackeray's  Humourists,  p.  78;  see  also  pp.  61,  80.) 

2  Johnson,  ii.  197,  198. 


38  THE   MONUMENTS 

We  return  to  the  South  Transept.     Matthew  Prioi 
claimed  a  place  there,  as  well  by  his  clever  and  agree- 
able verses,  as  by  his  diplomatic  career  and 

Matthew  '  ''  ^ 

Prior,  buried  |-^^g  conncction  with  Westminster  School.    The 

Sept.  25, 

i^"^^-  monument,  '  as  a  last  piece  of  human  vanity,' 

was  provided  by  his  son  :  the  bust  was  a  present  from 
Louis  XIV.,  whom  he  had  known  on  his  embassy  to 
Paris,  and  may  serve  to  remind  us  of  his  rebuke  to  the 
Great  Monarch  when  he  replied  at  Versailles,  '  I  repre- 
sent a  king  who  not  only  tights  battles,  but  wins  them.' 
The  inscription  was  by  Dr.  Freind,  Head  Master  of 
Westminster,  '  in  honour  of  one  who  had  done  so  great 
honour  to  the  school.'  ^ 

I  had  not  strength  enough  [writes  Atterbury]  to  attend 
Mr.  Prior  to  his  grave,  else  I  would  have  done  it,  to  have 
shown  his  friends  that  I  had  forgot  and  forgiven  what  he 
wrote  to  me.  He  is  buried,  as  he  desired,  at  the  feet  of  Spen- 
ser, and  I  will  take  care  to  make  good  in  every  respect  what 
I  said  to  him  when  living  ;  particularly  as  to  the  triplet  he 
wrote  for  his  own  epitaph  ;  which,  while  Ave  were  in  good 
terms,  I  promised  him  should  never  appear  on  his  tomb  while 
I  was  Dean  of  Westminster.^ 

Ten  years  afterwards  another  blow  fell  on  the  lit- 
erary circle.  Gay's  '  Fables,'  written  for  the  education 
John  Gay,  of  the  Dukc  of  Cumberland,  still  attract  Eng- 
im^'*'''*'  lish  children  to  his  monument.  But  his  play- 
ful, amiable  character  can  only  be  appreciated  by  reading 
the  letters  of  his  contemporaries.^     '  We  have  all  had,' 

1  Biog.  Brit.  v.  3445. 

2  Pope,  X.  382.  — The  triplet  was : 

To  me  't  is  given  to  die  —  to  you  't  is  given 

To  lire  :  alas  !  one  moment  sets  us  even  — 

Mark  how  impartial  is  the  will  of  Heaven. 

8  '  Good  God !  how  often  we  are  to  die  before  we  go  qnite  off  this 

fitage !    lu  every  friend  we  lose  a  part  of  ourselves,  and  the  best  part. 


OF  THE  POETS.  39 

writes  Dr.  Arbuthnot,^  '  another  loss,  of  our  worthy  and 
dear  friend  Dr.  Gay.  It  was  some  alleviation  of  my 
grief  to  see  him  so  universally  lamented  by  almost  every- 
body, even  by  those  who  only  knew  him  by  reputation. 
He  was  interred  at  Westminster  Abbey,  as  if  he  had 
been  a  peer  of  the  realm  ;  and  the  good  Duke  of  Queens- 
berry,  who  lamented  him  as  a  brother,  will  set  up  a 
handsome  monument  upon  him.'  His  body  ms  funeral, 
was  brought  by  the  Company  of  Upholders  1732. 
from  the  Duke  of  Queensberry's  to  Exeter  Change,  and 
thence  to  the  Abbey,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  winter 
evening.  Lord  Chesterfield  and  Pope  were  present 
amongst  the  mourners.'-^  He  had  already,  two  months 
before  his  death,  desired  — 

My  dear  Mr.  Pope,  whom  I  love  as  my  own  soul,  if  you 
survive  me,  as  you  certaiuly  will,  if  a  stone  shaU  mark  the 
place  of  my  grave,  see  these  words  put  upon  it  — 

Life  is  a  jest,  and  all  things  show  it ; 
I  thought  it  once,  but  now  I  know  it, 

with  what  else  you  may  think  proper. 

His  wish  was  complied  with.^    The  conclusion  specially 
points  to  his  place  of  burial : 

These  are  thy  honours !  not  that  here  thy  bust 
Is  mix'd  with  heroes,  nor  with  kings  thy  dust, 
But  that  the  worthy  and  the  good  shall  say, 
Striking  their  pensive  bosoms  — '  Here  lies  Gay.' 

God  keep  those  we  have  left :  few  are  worth  praying  for,  and  one's  self 
the  least  of  all.'     (Pope,  iii.  378.) 
^  Pope.  ix.  208,  209. 

2  Biog.  Brit.  iv.  2167,  2187. 

3  To  make  room  for  the  monument,  Butler's  bust  (by  permission  of 
Alderman  Barber)  was  removed  to  its  present  position.  (Chapter 
Book,  October  31,  1733.) 


40  THE   MONUMENTS 

This  last  line,  which  was  altered  ^  at  the  suggestion  of 
Swift,  '  is  so  dark  that  few  understand  it,  and  so  harsh 
when  it  is  explained  that  still  fewer  approve  it.'  '^ 

With  Gay  is  concluded,  as  far  as  the  Abbey  is  con- 
cerned, the  last  of  the  brilliant  circle  of  friends  whose 
mutual   correspondence  and   friendship   give  such  an 
,.  ,     additional  interest   to  their  graves.     One  of 

Pope,  died  o 

f^^l  ^^'  these,  however,  we  sorely  miss.  '  I  have  been 
Tw'icken-  ^old  of  oue  Popc,'  says  Goldsmith's  Chinese 
ham.  philosopher,   as   he   wanders    through    Poets' 

Corner  murmuring  at  the  obscure  names  of  which  he 
had  never  heard  before :  '  Is  he  there  ? '  '  It  is  time 
enough,'  replied  his  guide,  '  these  hundred  years :  he  is 
not  long  dead :  people  have  not  done  hating  him  yet.' 
It  was  not,  however,  the  hate  of  his  contemporaries 
that  kept  his  bust  out  of  the  Abbey,^  but  his  own 
deliberate  wish  to  be  interred,  by  the  side  *  of  his  be- 
loved mother,  in  the  central  aisle  of  the  parish  church 
of  Twickenham :  and  his  epitaph,  composed  by  himself, 
is  inscribed  on  a  white  marble  tablet  above  the  gallery : 

His  epitaph.    _Po/'  one  that  xvould  not  he  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

Heroes  and  kings  !  your  distance  keep, 
In  peace  let  one  poor  poet  sleep, 
Who  never  flatter'd  folks  like  you : 
Let  Horace  blush,  and  Virgil  too. 

The  '  Little  Nightingale,'  who  withdrew  from  the  bois- 
terous  company  of  London  to  those  quiet  shades,  only 
to  revisit  them  in  his  little  chariot  like  '  Homer  in  a 
nutshell,'^  naturally  rests  there  at  last. 

1  Erom  '  striking  their  aching  bosoms.'     {Bioff.  Brit.  iv.  2187.) 

2  Johnson,  iii.  215.  ^  Pope,  iii.  382. 
*  '  His  filial  piety  excels 

Whatever  genuine  stor}' tells.'     (Swift.) 
^  Thackeray's  Humourists,  p.  207. 


OF  THE  SCHOLARS.  41 

With  Pope's  secession  the  line  of  poets  is  broken  for 
a  time.  None  whose  claims  rested  on  their  poetic 
merits  alone  were,  after  him,  buried  within  Thomson, 

'  buried  at 

the  Abbey,  till  quite  our  own  days.     Thomson,  f^^ciimoud, 
whose  bust   appears   by  the  side   of   Shaks-  ""^^nt 
peare's  monument,  was  interred  in  the  parish  Abbey,  ^^^ 
church  of  his  own  favourite  Eichmond  —  lo.  i'^?. 

In  yonder  grave  a  Druid  lies.^ 

Gray  could  be  buried  nowhere  but  in  that  country 
churchyard   of   Stoke    Pogis,  which   he   has   rendered 
immortal  by  his  Elegy,  and  in  which  he  an-  oray.^buried 
ticipates  his  rest.     His  monument,  however,  Pogis,  1771. 
is  placed  by  Milton's ;   and,  both   by  the  art  of   the 
sculptor,  and  the  verses  inscribed  upon  it  by  his  friend 
Mason,  is  made  to  point  not  unfitly  to  Milton,  m^^^,^^ 
thus  completing  that  cycle  of  growing  honour  A«to.n,^in^ 
which  we  saw  beginning  with  the  tablet  of  1797. 
Philips.'^     And  next  to  this  cenotaph  is  also,  in  a  nat- 
ural sequence,  that  of  Mason  himself,  with  an  inscription 
by  his  own  friend  Hurd. 

It  may  be  well  to  take  advantage  of  this  pause  in 
the  succession  to  mark  the  memorials  of  other  kinds 
of  genius,  which  have  intermingled  with  the  historical 
more  strictly  poetic  vein.  Isaac  Casaubon,^  ^'^''^• 
interesting  not  only  for  his  great  learning,  but  SiTa  ju'iy'1.4 
as  one  of  those  Protestants  of  the  seventeenth 
century  who,  like  Grotius  and  Grabe,  looked  with  a 
kindly  eye  on  the  older  Churches,  had,  on  the  death 
of  his  French  patron  Henri  IV.,  received  from  James  I. 
(although  a  layman)  prebendal  stalls  at   Canterbury, 

1  Collins's  Ode.  '^  See  p.  123. 

3  Spelt  Cuusabon  in  the  Register.    Mrs.  Causabon  was  buried  in  the 
cloisters,  March  11,  1635-36.     (Register.) 
*  The  Register  says  July  8. 


42  THE  MONUMENTS 

but  '  lietli  entombed,'  says  Fuller,  '  in  the  south  aisle  ^ 
of  Westminster  Abbey ; '  who  then  adds,  with  an  em- 
phasis which  marks  this  tomb  as  the  first  in  a  new  and 
long  succession,  '  not  in  the  east  or  poetical  side  thereof 
where  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Drayton  are  interred,  but  on 
the  west  or  historical  side  of  the  aisle.'  His  monument 
was  made  by  Stone  for  £60  at  the  cost  of  'Thomas 
Morton,  Bishop  of  Durham,  that  great  lover  of  learned 
men,  dead  or  alive.'  ^  Next  to  it,  and  carrying  on  the 
Camden,       samc  affinity,  is  the  bust  of  William  Camden, 

buried  Nov.     ,        ,   .         i  .  -   i      ^xr 

10, 162a.  by  his  close  connection  with  Westminster,  as 
its  one  lay  Head-master,  and  as  the  Prince  of  English 
antiquaries,  well  deserving  his  place  in  this  '  Broad 
Aisle,'  ^  in  which  he  was  laid  with  great  pomp ;  all  the 
College  of  Heralds  attending  the  funeral  of  their  chief. 
Christopher  Sutton  preached  'a  good  modest  sermon.'^ 
*  Both  of  these  plain  tombs,'  adds  Fuller,  marking  their 
peculiar  appearance  at  the  time,  '  made  of  white  marble, 
show  the  simplicity  of  their  intentions,  the  candidness 
casaubon's  ^^  their  naturcs,  and  perpetuity  of  their 
monument,  memories.'  On  Isaac  Casaubon's  tablet  is 
left  the  trace  of  another  'candid  and  simple  nature.' 

1  His  grave,  however,  was  '  at  the  entrance  of  St.  Benedict's  Chapel.' 
(Register.)  Near  the  same  spot  not  long  afterwards  (November  29, 
Spottis-  1639)  was  laid  tlie  historian  of  the  Scottish  Church,  Arch- 
woode,  Nov.    bishop  Spottiswoode.      He  had  intended  to  be  bnried  in 

'        *  Scotland,  but  tlie  difficulty  of  removal  from  London  and 

the  King's  wish  prevailed  in  favour  of  the  Abbey.  (Grub's  Ecd.  His- 
tortj  of  Scotland,  iii.  66.) 

2  Walpole's  Painters,  242.     About  the  same  time  was  burred  in  an 

unmarked  and  unknown   grave  Richai-d  Hakluyt   (Regis- 

Hakluyt,        ter),  the  father  of  English  geographers,  who  was  educated 

n^'T.^L^"^"  at  Westminster,  and  in  later  life  became  a  Prebendary. 
26, 1616.  '  "' 

See  Chapter  VI. 

^  Register. 

*  State  Papers,  Nov.  21,  162.3.     Sutton,  who  was  a  Prebendary,  was 

buried  (1629)  in  the  same  transept.    Dart,  ii.  66. 


OF  THE  SCHOLARS.  43 

Izaak  Walton,^  —  who  may  in  his  youth  have  so,en  his 
venerable  namesake,  to  whom  indeed  Casaubon  per- 
haps gave  his  Christian  name,  who  was  a  friend  of  his 
son  Meric  and  of  his  patron  Morton,  and  who  loses  no 
occasion  of  commending  *  that  man  of  rare  learning 
and  ingenuity'  —  forty  years  afterwards,  wandering 
through  the  South  Transept,  scratched  his  j^aak 
well-known  monogram  on  the  marble,  with  JJiono^ram, 
the  date  1658,  earliest  of  those  unhappy  ^^''^' 
inscriptions  of  names  of  visitors,  which  have  since  de- 
faced so  many  a  sacred  space  in  the  Abbey.  0  si  sic 
omnia  !  We  forgive  the  Greek  soldiers  who  recorded 
their  journey  on  the  foot  of  the  statue  at  Ipsambul ; 
the  riatonist  who  has  left  his  name  in  the  tomb  of  Ilani- 
eses  at  Thebes ;  the  Eoman  Emperor  who  has  carved 
his  attestation  of  Memnon's  music  on  the  colossal  knees 
of  Amenophis.  Let  us,  in  like  manner,  forgive  the 
angler  for  this  mark  of  himself  in  Poets'  Cor-  (..^^^jg^.g 
ner.  Camden's  monument  long  ago  bore  ™'^nii"'ent. 
traces  of  another  kind.  The  Cavaliers,  or,  as  some 
said,  the  Independents,  who  broke  into  the  Abbey  at 
night,  to  deface  the  hearse  of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  '  used 
the  like  uncivil  deportment  towards  the  effigies  of  old 
learned  Camden  —  cut  in  pieces  the  book  held  in  his 
hand,  broke  off  his  nose,  and  otherwise  defaced  his 
visiognomy.'  ^ 

A  base  villain  —  for  certainly  no  person  that  had  a  right 
English  soul  could  have  done  it  —  not  suffering  his  monu- 
ment to  stand  without  violation  Avhose  learned  leaves  have 
so  preserved  the  antiquities  of  the  nation.^ 

1  "Walton  was  born  1593,  and  died  1683. 

2  Perfect  Diurnal,  November  23-30,  1646.  Alluding  to  the  book  of 
'  Britannia '  on  Camden's  monument. 

3  Winstanlej's  Worthies  (1660). 


44  THE   MONUMENTS 

It  was  restored  by  the  University  of  Oxford,  from 
which,  in  his  earlier  struggles,  he  had  vainly  sought  a 
Restored  fellowship  and  a  degree  —  one  of  the  many 
about  1780.  instances  of  generous  repentance  by  which 
Oxford  has  repaid  her  shortcomings  to  her  eminent 
sons. 

'  Opposite  his  friend  Camden's  monument,'  ^  though 
a  little  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  transept,  before  the 
entrance  of  St.  Nicholas's  Chapel,  is  the  grave  of  an- 
speimaTi,       othcr   autiouary,   hardly   less    famous  —  Sir 

buried  Oct.  I         J  '  J  . 

24, 1641.  Henry  Spelman,  buried  in  his  eighty -first 
year,  by  order  of  Charles  I.,  with  much  solemnity .^  He 
had  lived  in  intimacy  with  all  the  antiquarians  of  that 
antiquarian  time,  and  the  patronage  which  he  received, 
both  from  Archbishop  Abbott  and  Archbishop  Laud, 
well  agrees  with  the  two-sided  character  of  the  old 
knight,  at  once  so  constitutional  and  so  loyal.  If  ever 
any  book  was  favourable  to  the  claims  of  the  High 
Church  party,  it  was  the  'History  of  Sacrilege;'  but 
even  Spelman  was  obliged  to  stop  his  '  Glossary '  at  the 
letter  '  L,'  because  there  were  three  M's  that  scan- 
dalized the  Archbishop  —  '  Magna  Charta,'  '  Magnum 
Concilium  Eegis,'  and  '  M .'  At  the  foot  of  Cam- 
den's monument  the  Parliamentary  historian  May  had 
been  buried.  '  If  he  were  a  biassed  and  partial  writer, 
he  lieth  near  a  good  and  true  historian  indeed  —  I 
mean  Dr.  Camden.'^ 

^  Gibson's  Life  of  Spelman.  ^  Eegister. 

3  Fuller's  Worthies,  ii.  259. — The  expressive  bust  of  Sir  William 
Sanderson  Sanderson,  the  aged  historian  of  Mary  Stuart,  James  I., 
July  18,  and  Charles  I.,  was  originally  close  to  the  spot  where,  with 

I676,aged9l.  ^j^  ^.j^^^  'mother  of  the  maids  of  honour,'  he  lies  in  the 
North  Transept.  Evelyn  {Memoirs,  ii.  420)  was  present  at  his  funeral. 
It  wa.s  removed  to  make  way  for  "Wager's  monument,  and  now  looks 
out  from  beneath  that  of  Admiral  Watson. 


OF   THE   DIVINES.  45 

Under  the  Commonwealth  this  spot  was  rj.^^-^^^  j^^^ 
consecrated  to  the  burial  of  theologians.^  Itrougfjuiy 
Twiss,  the  Calvinist  Vicar  of  Newbury  and  *•  ^*^^'*' 
Prolocutor  of  the  Westminster  ^  Assembly,  Strong,^ 
the  famous  Independent,  and  jNfarshall,  the  famous 
Presbyterian  preacher,  were  all  laid  here  until  their 
disinterment  in  1661,     It  became  afterwards  „    ,  „ 

Marshall, 

no  less  the  centre  of  Eoyalist  divines.     In  the  f°^^  ^^' 
place  of   May's*  monument  was  raised   the  bu'de^"' 
tablet  of  Dr.  Triplett,  and  then  that  of  Outram,  ^"i't^^J.^J^- 
who  wrote  a  once  celebrated  book  on  Sacrifice,  au™*25 
both  Prebendaries  of   Westminster.      Beside  bIvi-ow, 
them  rests  another  far  greater,  also  locally  burld  May 
connected  with  Westminster  —  Isaac  Barrow.  '^•^^''^• 
Doubtless   had    '  the   best    scholar    in    England '   (as 
Charles  11.  called  him  when  he  signed  his  patent  for 
the  ^Mastership  of  Trinity)  died  in  his  own  great  college, 
he  would  have  been  interred  in  the  vestibule  of  Trinity 
chapel,  which  was  to  contain  Newton's  statue,  as  his 
portrait  hangs  by  the  side  of  that  of  Newton  in  Trinity 


1  Two  earlier  Protestant  divines  had  been  already  interred  in  the 

Abbey,  Redma^'ne  (1551),  Master  of  Trinity,  one  of  the  most  learned 

and  moderate  of  the  early  Reformers,  and  a  compiler  of  the 

first  Reformed  Liturgy ;  and  Bilson,  Bishop  of  Winches-  1551.         ' 

ter,  buried  in  the  South  Ambulatory,  June  18,  1616  —  re-  Bilson,  June 

IS   1616 
markable  for  his  defence  of  '  Episcopacy,'  for  his  belief  in      ' 

the  literal  meaning  of  the  '  Descent  into  Hell,'  and  for  his  noble  state- 
ment ot  the  true  view  of  Christian  Redemption. 

^  See  Chapter  VI.  Twiss  was  buried  at  the  upper  end  of  the  Poor 
Folks'  Table,  near  the  entry.  (Register.)  His  funeral  was  attended 
by  the  whole  Assembly  of  Divines.     (Xeal's  Puritans,  iii.  317.) 

3  For  Strong's  pastoral  ministrations  in  the  Abbey,  See  Chapter  VI. 
His  funeral  sermon  was  preached  by  Obadiah  Sedgewick,  who  says  that 
he  was  '  so  plain  in  heart,  so  deep  in  judgment,  so  painful  in  study,  so 
exact  in  preaching,  and,  in  a  word,  so  fit  for  all  the  parts  of  the  minis- 
terial service,  that  I  do  not  know  his  equal.' 

*  Crull,  App.  xxiv. 


46  THE   MONUMENTS 

hall.     It  was  the  singular  connection  of  his  office  with 
Westminster  School  which  caused  his  interment  under 
the  same  roof  which  contains  Newton's  remains.     He 
had  come,  as  master  after  master,  to  the  election  of 
Westminster  scholars,  and  was  lodged  in  one  of  the 
canonical  houses  '  that  had  a  little  stair  to  it  out  of  the 
Cloisters,'  ^  which  made  him  call  it  '  a  man's  nest.'  ^ 
He  was  there  struck  with  high  fever,  and  died  from  the 
opium  which,  by  a  custom  contracted  when  at  Con- 
stantinople, he  administered  to  himself.     '  Had  it  not 
been  too  inconvenient  to  carry  him  to  Cambridge,  there 
wit  and  eloquence  had  paid  their  tribute  for  the  honour 
he  has  done  them.     Now  he  is  laid  in  Westminster 
gj^^r^,^,^       Abbey,  on  the  learned  side  of  the  South  Tran- 
moimment.    ggpj^ ' 3     jj^g  monumcnt  was  erected  by  'the 
gratitude  of  his  friends,  a  contribution  not  usual  in  that 
age,  and  a  respect  pecuhar  to  him  among  all  the  glories 
of  that  Church.'      His  epitaph  was  written   by  'his 
dear  friend   Dr.    Mapletoft.'      'His  picture  was  never 
made  from  life,  and  the  effigies  on  his  tomb  doth  but 
little  resemble  him.'     '  He  was  in  person  of  the  lesser 
size,  lean  and  of  extraordinary  strength,  of  a  fair  and 
calm  complexion,  a  thin  skin,  very  susceptible  of  the 
cold;  his  eyes  gray,  clear,  and  somewhat  shortsighted; 
his  hair  of  a  light  auburn,  very  fine  and  curling.' 

Above  Casaubon  and  Barrow  is  the  monument 
erected  by  Harley,  Earl  of  Oxford,  to  the  illustrious 

1  It  was,  doubtless,  the '  old  prebendal  house  called  the  Tree,'  pulled 
down  in  1710  (11).     (Chapter  Book,  February  22,  1710.) 

2  Lives  of  Guildford  and  North,  iii.  318.  Another  version  is  that '  he 
died  in  mean  lodgings  at  a  sadler's  near  Charing  Cross,  an  old  low- 
built  house,  which  he  had  used  for  several  years.'     (Dr.  Pope's  Life  of 

Ward,  167.)     He  had  a  few  days  before  put  Dr.  Pope  'into  a  rapture 
of  joy'  by  inviting  him  to  the  Lodge  at  Trinity.     (Ibid.  167.) 
8  Life  of  Dr.  Barrow,  p.  xvii. 


OF  THE  THEOLOGIANS.  4< 

Prussian  scholar,  Grabe,^  the  editor  of  the  Septuagint 
and  of  Irenceus,  who,  like  Casaubon,  found  in  q,.^^^^  died 
the   Church    of  England  a  home  more  con-  buHedinst 
genial   than   either   Rome   or   Geneva   could 
furnish. 

Looking  down  the  Transept  are  three  notable  monu- 
ments,  united   chiefly   by   the   bond   of    Westminster 
School,  but  also  by  that  of  learning  and  wit  —  Busby, 
South,  and  Vincent.     Busby,  the  most  cele-  Busby.  ^  ^.^ 
brated  of  schoolmasters  before  our  own  time,  s,  i695. 
was  doubtless  the  genius  of  the  place  for  all  the  fifty- 
eight  years  in  which  he  reigned  over  the  School.^     To 
this,  and  not  to  the  Abbey,  belongs  his  history.     But 
the  recollection  of  his  severity  long  invested  his  monu- 
his  monument  with  a  peculiar   awe.      'His 
pupils,'  said  the  profane  wit  of  the  last  century, '  when 
they  come  by,  look  as  pale  as  his  marble,  in  remem- 
brance of  his  severe  exactions.' ^      As   Sir   Eoger  de 
Coverley   stood    before   Busby's   tomb,   he   exclaimed, 
*  Dr.  Busby,  a  great  man,  whipped  my  grandfather  — 
a  very  great  man  !     I  should  have  gone  to  him  myself 
if  I  had  not  been  a  blockhead.     A  very  great  man  ! '  * 
From  this  tomb,  it  is  said,  all^  the  likenesses  of  him 
have  been  taken,  he  having  steadily  refused,  during  his 
life,  to  sit  for  his  portrait.     He  was  buried,  like  a  sec- 
ond Abbot  Ware,  under  the  black  and  white  marble 
pavement  which  he  placed  along  the  steps  and  sides  of 
the  Sacrarium. 

1  Secretan's  Life  of  Nelson,  p.  223.  —  He  was  buried  in  the  Chancel 
of  St.  Pancras  Church,  it  was  believed  from  a  secret  sympathy  with 
the  Roman  Catholics,  who  were  buried  in  the  adjacent  cemetery. 

2  See  Chapter  VI. 

8  Tom  Brown,  iii.  228.  Compare  the  same  thought  in  Carmina 
Quadrigesimalia,  first  series,  p.  66.  *  Spectator,  No.  139. 

5  One  exception  must  be  noticed  —  the  portrait  in  the  Headmaster's 
house  —  unlike  all  the  others,  and  apparently  from  life. 


48  THE  MONUMENTS 

Under  those  steps  was  laid  South,  who  began  his 
career  at  Westminster  under  Busby ;  and  then,  after 
South  died  l^is  many  vicissitudes  of  political  tergiversa- 
buned  July  ^iou,  polemical  bitterness,  and  witty  preaching, 
16, 1716.  ^^^  buried,  as  Prebendary  and  Archdeacon  of 
Westminster,  '  with  much  solemnity,'  in  his  eighty- 
third  year,  by  the  side  of  his  old  master.^ 

Vincent  followed  the  two  others  after  a  long  inter- 
val.^ His  relations  with  Westminster  were  still  closer 
Vincent,  ^haii  tlicirs  —  Scholar,  Under-master,  Head- 
buiiedDec!'  niaster.  Prebendary  and  Dean  in  succession. 
29, 1815.  g^Qj  j^^g  works  on  ancient  commerce  and  navi- 
gation would  almost  have  entitled  him  to  a  place 
amongst  the  scholars  of  the  Abbey,  apart  from  his 
official  connection  with  it. 

Not  far  from  those  indigenous  giants  of  Westminster 
is  the  monument  of  Antony  Horneck,^  who,  though  a 
Horneck,  German  by  birth  and  education,  was,  with  the 
4, 1696-7.  '  liberality  of  those  times,  recommended  by  Til- 
lotson  to  Queen  Mary  for  a  stall  in  the  Abbey.  He 
was  'a  most  pathetic  preacher,  a  person  of  saint-like 
life,'  *  the  glory  of  the  Savoy  Chapel,  where  his  enor- 
mous congregations  caused  it  to  be  said  that  his  parish 
reached  from  Whitechapel  to  Whitehall.  He  presented 
the  rare  union  of  great  pastoral  experience,  unflinching 
moral  courage,  and  profound  learning.  The  Hebrew 
epitaph  bears  witness  to  his  proficiency  in  Biblical  and 
Rabbinical  literature. 

Another  Prebendary  of  Westminster,  Herbert  Thorn- 

1  See  Chapter  VI. 

2  He  is  buried  in  St.  Benedict's  Chapel.     See  Chapter  VI. 

8  He  is  buried  in  the  South  Transept.  See  Chapter  VI.  Close 
beside  his  monument  is  that  of  another  Prebendary,  Samuel  Barton 
(died  Sept.  1,  1715). 

*  Evelyn,  iii.  7& 


OF  THE  THEOLOGIANS.  49 

djke}  lies  in  the  East  Cloister.  He  had  the  misfortune 
of  equally  offending  the  Nonconformists    at  Jho^dyke, 

"■"•    ^  1  J  o  buned  July 

the  Savoy  Conference  by  his  supposed  ten-  13,1672. 
dencies  to  the  Church  of  Kome,  and  the  High  Church 
party  by  his  familiarity  with  the  Moravians.  In  his 
will  he  withheld  his  money  from  his  relatives  if  they 
joined  either  the  mass  or  the  new  licensed  Conventicles. 
And  on  his  grave  he  begged  that  these  words 

°  °°  His  grave. 

might  be  inscribed:  'Hie  jacct  corpus  Herberti 
Thorndyke,  Prcb.  httjus  ecclesice,  qui  vivus  vcram  refor- 
mandce  ecclesice  rationem  ac  modum  precibusque  studi- 
isque  proscquehatur.  Tu,  lector,  requiem  ei  ct  heatam  in 
Christo  rcsurrectioncm  precare.'  ^  This  wish  was  not  ful- 
filled. His  gravestone,  which  is  near  the  eastern  en- 
trance to  the  Abbey,  from  the  Cloister,  never  had  any 
other  inscription  than  his  name,  which  has  lately  been 
renewed.  Beneath  another  unmarked  gravestone,  in 
the  North  Cloister,  lies  Dr.  William  King,  friend  of 
Swift,  and  author  of  a  long  series  of  humour-  Dr.  wiiiiam 

'  °  I'll         King,  buned 

ous  and  serious  writings,  intertwmed  with  the  Dec  27,1712. 
politics  and  literature  of  that  time.  He  lies  beside  his 
master,  Dr.  Knipe. 

The  burial  of  Atterbury,  connected  with  almost  every 
celebrated  name  in  the  Abbey  during  this  pe-  Atterbury, 
riod,  and  in  the  opinion  of  Lord  Grenville  the  buried uHy' 
greatest  master  of  English  prose,  must  be  re-  ^^^^^^ 
served  for  another  place.^     But  immediately  ^^^^^^g^' 
above  his  grave  hangs  the  monument  of  a  di-  ^^oi-s. 
vine  whose  memory  casts  a  melancholy  interest  over  the 

1  His  brother,  John  Thorndyke,  who  lies  with  him,  died  in  1668, 
on  his  return  from  New  England,  to  which  he  was  one  of  j^^^^  ^^^^.^^^ 
the  first  emigrants.    John's  son  Paul  had  already  returned  ^^^^^  ^mi. 
in  1663.     See  Chapter  VI, 

2  This  inscription  was  adduced  in  the  famous  Woolfrey  case. 

3  See  Chapter  VI. 

VOL.  II. — 4 


50  THE   MONUMENTS 

small  entrance  by  which  Dean  after  Dean  has  de- 
scended into  the  Abbey  :  *  the  favourite  pupil  of  the 
great  Newton  '  — ■ '  the  favourite  chaplain  of  Sancroft, 
whose  early  death  was  deplored  by  all  parties  as  an 
irreparable  loss  to  letters ; '  ^  the  youthful  pride  of 
Cambridge,  as  Atterbury  was  of  Oxford ;  perhaps,  had 
he  lived,  as  unscrupulous  and  as  imperious  as  Atter- 
bury, but  with  an  exactitude  and  versatility  of  learn- 
ing which  may  keep  his  name  fresh  in  the  mind  of 
students  long  after  Atterbury's  fame  has  been  confined 
to  the  political  history  of  his  time.  Henry  Wharton, 
compiler  of  the  'Anglia  Sacra,'  died  in  his  thirty-first 
year.  His  funeral  was  attended  by  Archbishop  Teni- 
son  and  Bishop  Lloyd.  Sprat,  as  Dean,  read  the 
service.  The  Westminster  scholars  (at  that  time  'an 
uncommon  respect,'  and  'the  highest  the  Dean  and 
Chapter  can  show  on  that  occasion ' )  were  caused  to 
attend ;  the  usual  fees  were  remitted ;  and  Purcell's 
Anthem  was  sung  over  his  grave,^  which  was  close  to 
the  spot  where  his  tablet  is  seen.^ 

1  Macaulay,  ii.  109.  ^  £,yg  ^f  Wharton. 

"  In  the  North  Aisle  and  Transept  may  here  be  noticed  Warren, 
Bishop  of  Bangor  (1800),  with  the  fine  monument  of  his 
1800.     '         wife,  and  the  two  Irish  Primates  —  Boulter,  the  munificent 
ttS'^**^'         statesman-prelate,  who  '  was   translated  to  tlie  Archbish- 
opric of  Armagh,  1723,  and  from  thence  to  Heaven,  1742  ; ' 
and  Agar,  Lord  Normanton,  who,  in  1809,  was  buried  in  the  adjacent 
grave  of  his  uncle.  Lord  Mendip,  Archbishop  successively 
°    '        *    of  Cashel  and  Dublin.     On  his  tomb  is  sculptured,  by  his 
express  desire,  an  exact  copy  of  the  miserable  modern  Cathedral  of 
Cashel,  which  he  built  at  the  foot  of  the  Rock  in  the  place  of  the  beau- 
tiful church  which  he  left  in  ruins  at  the  top  of  the  hill.    Bishop  Monk 
lies  close  by,  author  of  the  Life  of  Bentleij,  connected  with 
U°°1856."°^    Westminster  both  by  his  stall  and  by  the  magnificent  me- 
morial of  him,  left  by  his  family,  in  the  church  of  St.  James 
'  the  Less.    In  the  South  Aisle,  too,  must  be  added  the  Scot- 

tish Prebendary  of  Westminster,  Andrew  Bell,  the  founder  of  the 


OF  THE  THEOLOGIANS.  51 

Eeturning  towards  Poets'  Corner,  in  the  soutli  aisle 
of  the  Choir  is  a  monument  ^  which  commemorates  at 
once  the  increasing  culture  of  the  Nonconformists  and 
the  Christian  liberality  of  the  Church  of  Eng-  ^^^^^^  ^.^^ 
land.     Isaac  Watts  was  '  one  of  the  first  au-  ^^^^n^ton, 
thors    that    taught   the   Dissenters   to   court  Bunhui" 
attention   by  the   graces    of   language.'     We  ^'^^'^^'  ^^*^" 
may  add  that  he  was  one  of  the  first,  if  not  the  first, 
who  made  sacred  poetry  the  vehicle  of  edification  and 
instruction.     He  was  the  Keble  of  the  Nonconformists 
and  of  the  eighteenth  century.     Before  the  '  Christian 
Year,'  no  English  religious  poems  w^ere  so  popular  as 
his   'Psalms  and  Hymns.'      'Happy,'  says   the   great 
contemporary  champion  of  Anglican  orthodoxy,  'will 
be  that  reader  whose  mind  is  disposed,  by  his  verses 
or  his  prose,  to  imitate  him  in  all  but  his  Non-  mm 
conformity,  to  copy  his  benevolence  to  men  ^^^^^^l,"^^^ 
and  his  reverence  to  God.'^     His  monument  itss. 
was  erected  a  century  after  his  death,  and  ley.'burfld 
now,  after  nearly  another  century,  close  by  RnadchSi. 


1791. 


has  been  raised  a  memorial  to  the  two  Wes    ^^^^^^^^ 
leys,  inscribed  with  their  characteristic  say-  istc. 
ings,  taken  from  their  respective  tombs,  and  sculptured 
with  the  faces  of  the  two  brothers,  and  the  scene  of 
John's  preaching. 

Meanwhile,  the  '  Historical  or  Learned  Aisle '  of  the 
South   Transept  had  overflowed  into  that  part  which 

Madras  scheme  of  education.  (The  monument  mistakenly  gives  the 
date  of  his  installation  1810  instead  of  1819.)  A  third  Irish  Primate, 
the  handsome  George  Stone,  lies  in  the  Nave. 

1  It  was  erected  at  the  beginning  of  this  century,  but  'was  mutilated 
by  the  hand  of  wantonness'  before  1810.  Life  of  Dr.  Watts,  p.  xlix. 
It  has  been  recently  repaired  by  the  Nonconformists. 

2  Johnson's  Ports,  iii.  248.  Speaker  Onslow,  after  his  last  visit  to 
him,  '  thought  he  saw  a  man  of  God  after  his  death  devoutly  laid  out. 
May  my  soul  be  where  his  soul  now  is  ! '     {Mem.  of  Watts,  310.) 


52  THE  MONUMENTS 

was  especially  entitled  Poets'  Corner,  The  blending 
of  poet,  divine,  scholar,  and  historian  in  the  same  part 
^  ^p  of  the  Abbey  is  a  testimony  to  the  necessary 
Letters.  union  of  learning  with  imagination,  of  fact 
with  fiction,  of  poetry  with  prose  ;  a  protest  against 
the  vulgar  literary  heresy  which  denies  Clio  to  be  a 
muse.  The  '  Divine  Spirit '  ascribed  to  Poetry  on  the 
monument  of  Spenser  is  seen  to  inspire  a  wider  range. 
The  meeting-point  between  the  two  is  in  the  group  of 
'men  of  letters,'  properly  so  called,  which  gathered 
round  Shakspeare's  monument  —  the  cluster  of  names 
familiar  through  Boswell's  'Life  of  Johnson.' 
Goldsmith,        Goldsmith  was  the  first  to  pass  away.     '  I 

died  April  ,  •  i     -t-v  t    i  i      • 

4, 1774,  and    remember   once,    said   Dr.    J  ohnson,    '  being 

buried  at  the  .  .  ait 

Temple.  with  Goldsmith  m  Westminster  Abbey. 
While  we  surveyed  the  Poets'  Corner,  I  said  to  him  — 

'  Forsitan  et  nostrum  nomen  miscebitur  istis. 

When  we  got  to  Temple  Bar  he  stopped  me,  pointed  to 
the  heads  [of  the  Jacobites]  upon  it,  and  slily  whis- 
pered me  — 

'  Forsitan  et  nostrum  nomen  miscebitur  istis.'  ^ 

It  is  his  name  only,  not  his  dust,  that  is  mingled  with 
the  Poets.  He  lies  on  the  north  side  of  the  Temple 
Church,  under  a  gravestone  erected  in  this  century. 
But '  whatever  he  wrote,  he  did  it  better  than  any  other 
man  could  do.  He  deserved  a  place  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  every  year  he  lived  would  have  deserved  it 
better.'  ^    It  had  been  intended  that  he  should  have  his 

1  Boswell's /oA«son,  ii.  225.  An  interesting  application  of  this  in- 
cident occurs  in  some  verses  on  a  stranger  who  encountered  the  poet 
Rogers  wandering  through  Poets'  Corner.  (Fasciculus,  printed  pri- 
vately at  the  Chiswick  Press,  p.  5.) 

2  Boswell's  Johnson,  iv.  108. 


OF   THE   MEN  OF   LETTERS.  53 

burial  in  the  Abbey,  but  the  money  which  a  pubhc 
funeral  would  have  cost  was  reserved  for  his  monu- 
ment.^    It  is  on  the  south  wall  of  the  South 

.  Ill  ^^'®  tablet. 

Transept  —  in  a  situation  selected  by  the  most 
artistic,  and  with  an  inscription  composed  by  the  most 
learned,  of  his  admirers.  Sir  Joshua  Eeynolds  fixed 
the  place.  Dr.  Johnson  exemphfied,  in  his  inscription, 
the  rule  which  he  had  sternly  laid  down  for  others,  by 
writing  it  not  in  English,  but  in  Latin.  In  vain  was 
the  famous  round-robin  addressed  to  him  by  all  his 
friends,  none  of  whom  had  the  courage  to  address  him 
singly,  to  petition  that 

the  character  of  the  deceased  as  a  writer,  particularly  as  a 
poet,  is  perhaps  not  delineated  with  all  the  exactness  which 
Dr.  Johnson  is  capable  of  giving  it :  we  therefore,  with  defer- 
ence to  his  superior  judgment,  humbly  request  that  he  would 
at  least  take  the  trouble  of  revising  it,  and  of  making  such 
additions  and  alterations  as  he  shall  think  proper  upon  a 
further  perusal.  But  if  we  might  venture  to  express  our 
wishes,  they  would  lead  us  to  request  that  he  would  write 
the  epitaph  in  English  rather  than  in  Latin,  as  we  think  that 
the  memory  of  so  eminent  an  English  writer  ought  to  be  per- 
petuated in  the  language  to  which  his  works  are  likely  to  be 
so  lasting  an  ornament,  which  we  also  know  to  have  been  the 
opinion  of  the  late  Doctor  himself.* 

Sir  Joshua  agreed  to  carry  it  to  Dr.  Johnson,  'who 
received  it  with  much  good  humour,  and  desired  Sir 
Joshua  to  tell  the  gentlemen  that  he  would  Goldsmith' 
alter  the  epitaph  in  any  manner  they  pleased,  epitaph, 
as  to  the  sense  of  it,  but  he  would  never  consent  to 
disgrace  the  walls  of  Westminster  Abbey  with  an  Eng- 
lish inscription  ; '  adding,  '  I  wonder  tliat  Joe  Warton, 

1  Life  of  Reynolds,  ii.  71.  ^  Boswell's  Johnson,  iii.  449. 


54  THE   MONUMENTS 

a  scholar  by  profession,  sliould  be  such  a  fool.  I  should 
have  thought  too  that  Mund  Burke  would  have  had 
more  sense.'  ^  One  mistake  in  detail  was  afterwards 
discovered  as  to  the  date  ^  of  Goldsmith's  birth.  The 
expression  '  physicus,'  as  Boswell  says,  '  is  surely  not 
right.'  Johnson  himself  used  to  say,  'Goldsmith,  sir, 
will  give  us  a  very  fine  book  on  this  subject ;  but  if  he 
can  distinguish  a  cow  from  a  horse,  that,  I  beheve,  is 
the  extent  of  his  knowledge  of  natural  history.'  ^  But 
the  whole  inscription  shows  the  supreme  position  wliich 
Goldsmith  occupied  in  English  literature;  and  one 
expression,  at  least,  has  passed  from  it  into  the  prover- 
bial Latin  of  mankind  — 

Nihil  tetigit  quod  non  ornavit.^ 

The  giant  of  the  circle  was  next  to  fall.     Johnson,  a 
few  days  before  his  death, 

had  asked  Sir  John  Hawkins,  as  one  of  his  executors,  where 
Johnson,  he  should  be  buried;  and  on  being  answered, 
buried^Dec^'  '  Doubtless  in  Westminster  Abbey,'  seemed  to  feel 
20, 1784.  ^  satisfaction,  very  natural  to  a  poet ;  and,  indeed, 
very  natural  to  every  man  of  any  imagination,  who  has  no 
family  sepulchre  in  which  he  can  be  laid  with  his  fathers. 
Accordingly,  upon  Monday,  December  20,  his  remains  [en- 
closed in  a  leaden  coffin]  were  deposited  in  that  noble  and 
renowned  edihce  [in  the  South  Transept,  near  the  foot  of 
Shakspeare's  monument,  and  close  to  the  coffin  of  hi3  friend 
Garrick]  ;  and  over  his  grave  was  placed  a  large  blue  flagstone 
with  name  and  age. 

His  funeral  was  attended  by  a  respectable  number  of  his 
friends,  particularly   such   of  the  members  of  the   Literary 

1  Boswell's  Johnson,  iii.  449. 

2  1731  for  1728.     (Ibid.  iii.  448.)  3  Ibid.  iii.  449. 

*  Nullum  scribendi  genus  quod  tetigit  non  ornacit.     (Epitaph.) 


OF  THE   MEN  OF   LETTERS.  55 

Club  as  were  in  town  ;  and  was  also  honoured  with  the 
presence  of  several  of  the  Reverend  Chapter  of  Westminster. 
Mr.  Burke,  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  Mr.  Windham,  Mr.  Langton, 
Sir  Charles  Bunbury,  and  Mr.  Colman  bore  his  pall.  His 
schoolfellow,  Dr.  Taylor,  performed  the  mournful  office  of 
reading  the  Burial  Service.^ 

A  flagstone  with  his  name  and  date  alone  marks  the 
spot.  The  monument  ^  long  intended  to  be  placed  on 
it  was  at  last  transferred  to  St.  Paul's.^ 

Within  a  few  feet  of  Johnson  lies  (by  one  of  those 
striking  coincidences  in  which  the  Abbey  abounds)  his 
deadly  enemy,  James  Macphersou,  the  author  MaopUeison, 
or  editor  of  '  Ossian.'     Though  he  died  near  bmied 

"  _  _  March  15, 

Inverness,  his  body,  according  to  his  will,  was  i"'->6. 
carried  from  Scotland,  and  buried '  in  the  Abbey  Church 
of  Westminster,  the  city  in  which  he  had  passed  the 
greatest  and  best  part  of  his  life.' 

The  last  links  in  that  group  are  the  two  dramatists, 
Eichard  Cumberland  and  Eichard  Brinsley   Sheridan, 
both  buried  close  to  Shakspeare's  statue.     At  Cumberland, 
Cumberland's    funeral  a  funeral  oration  was  bu,'.|ed  May 
delivered  —  perhaps  the  last  of  its  kind  —  by  shendan, 
Dean  Vincent,    his    former  schoolfellow^   at  fmried'juiy 
Westminster.     When  Sheridan  was  dying,  in  ^^'  ^^^^' 
the  extremity  of  poverty,   an  article  appeared  from  a 
generous  enemy  in  the    '  Morning   Post,'  saying   that 

1  Boswell's  Johnson,  v.  351,  352. 

2  The  proposal  for  its  erection  occurs  in  the  private  records  of  the 
Club,  and  the  order  iur  its  admission  in  the  Chapter  Book,  Marcli  17, 
1790. 

3  Life  of  Reynolds.  The  discussion  of  the  proposed  epitaphs  be- 
tween Parr,  Reynolds,  and  Lord  Stowell  fills  thirty  pages  in  Dr.  Parr's 
Works,  iv.  680-713.  For  the  appropriateness  of  the  statue  at  St.  Paul's, 
see  Milman'a  Annals,  481. 

*  Notes  and  Queries,  second  series,  ii.  46. 


66  THE   MONUMENTS 

relief  should  be  given  before  it  was  too  late :  '  Prefer 
ministering  in  the  chamber  of  sickness  '  to  ministering 
at  '  tlie  splendid  sorrows  that  adorn  the  hearse  '  — '  life 
and  succour  agamst  Westminster  Abbey  and  a  funeral.' 
But  it  was  too  late ;  and  Westminster  Abbey  and  the 
funeral,  with  all  the  pomp  that  rank  could  furnish,  was 
the  alternative.  It  was  this  which  suggested  the 
remark  of  a  French  journal :  '  France  is  the  place  for  a 
man  of  letters  to  live  in,  and  England  the  place  for  him 
to  die  iu.'i 

Two  cenotaphs  close  the  eighteenth  century  in  Poets' 
Corner,  under  the  tablet  of  St.  Evremond,  One  is  that 
christojher  ^^  Christopher  Anstey,  the  amiable  author  of 
burt'd'at  ^^6  '^6W  Bath  Guide'— probably  the  most 
Bath,  1805.  popular  Satire  of  that  time,  though  now  reced- 
ing into  the  obscurity  enveloping  the  Bath  society 
which  it  describes.  The  other,  remarkable  by  the  con- 
trast which  it  presents  to  the  memorial  of  the  worldly- 
Granviiie      minded  wit  of  Charles  II.'s  age,  is  that  of  the 

Sharp,  died  .  .  .,. 

July  1, 1813.  Christian  chivalry  and  simplicity  oi  iTranville 

Buried  at  "^  ^  '' 

Fuiham.  Sharp,  belonging  more  properly  to  the  noble 
army  of  Abolitionists  on  the  other  side  of  the  Abbey, 
but  claiming  its  place  among  the  men  of  letters  by  his 
extensive  though  eccentric  learning .^  The  monument, 
with  its  kneeling  negro,  and  its  lion  and  lamb,  was 
erected  by  the  African  Institution ;  and  the  inscription 
commemorating  the  most  scrupulously  orthodox  of 
men  was,  by  a  curious  chance,  the  composition  of  the 
Unitarian,  William  Smith. 

The  remaining  glories  of  Poets'  Corner^  belong  to 

^  Moore's  Life  of  Sheridan,  ii.  4G1. 

2  Hoare's  Life  of  Granville  Sharp,  p.  472.  For  his  character,  see 
Stephen's  Ecd.  Biog.  ii.  312-321. 

**  In  the  Cloisters  is  the  tablet  of  the  humourist,  Bouuell  Thornton, 


OF   THE   MEN  OF  LETTERS.  57 

our  own  time  and  to  the  future.     It  would   seem  as 
if,  during  the  opening  of  this  century,   the  place  for 
once  had  lost  its  charm.     Of  that  galaxy  of  campbeii, 
poets  which  ushered  m  this  epoch,  Campbeii  Boulogne, 

^  June  15, 

alone  has  achieved  there  both  grave  and  monu-  tumd  July 
ment,  on  which  is  inscribed  the  lofty  hope  of  ^^;^''>;Cary, 
immortality  from  his  own  ode  on  '  The  Last  i^^^- 
Man.'  Close  beside  him,  and  within  a  month,  but 
beneath  an  unmarked  gravestone,^  w^as  laid  Cary,  the 
graceful  and  accurate  translator  of  Dante.  Of  those 
who  took  part  in  the  vast  revival  of  our  periodical 
literature  the  only  one  who  rests  here  is  the  founder 
of  the  '  Quarterly  Review,'  William  Gilford.^  Of  the 
three   s^reatest   geniuses  of  that   period,   two  wiiuam 

*  '^  r  '  Gifford,  Jan. 

(Burns  and  Walter  Scott)  sleep  at  Dumfries  s,  1827. 
and   at  Dryburgh,  under  their  own  native  hills ;   the 
third  (Byron)  lies  at  Newstead.     '  We  cannot  even  now 
retrace  the  close  of  the  brilliant  and  misera-  j^  ^^^  ^^^ 
ble  career  of  the  most  celebrated  Englishman  fon-hf°' 
of    the   nineteenth   century,   without  feeling  bur7iu't 
something   of   what  w-as    felt   by  those   who  juiy*2i|"^' 
saw  the  hearse  with  its  long  train  of  coaches  ^  ^^^'^' 
turn  slowly  northward,  leaving  behind  it  that  cemetery 
which  had  been  consecrated  by  the  dust  of  so  many 

friend  of  "Warton,  wlio  wrote  his  epitaph  ;   and  the  grave  and  monu- 
ment of  Ephraira  Chambers,  the  eccentric  sceptical  philoso-  Thornton, 

pher,  the  Father  of  Cyclopiedias,  who  wrote  his  own  epi-  ^'^^' 

.  Chambers 

taph — '  Midtis  pervulgatus,  paucis    notus,    qui  vitam,   ?n<er  buried  May 

lucem  et   umhram,  nee  eruditus   nee   idioticis  Uteris  deditus,  ^l.  1740. 

transer/it.'  ^  An  inscription  was  first  added  in  1868. 

2  In  the  same  grave  was  afterwards  buried  his  early 
schoolfellow,  Dean  Ireland  (died  Sept.  2,  buried  Sept.  8,  sept "8^1842 
1842).  ■   ' 

^  A  lively  "Westminster  boy  (now  a  venerable  Archdeacon)  remem- 
bers how  he  sacrificed  his  breakfast  by  running  into  Great  George 
Street  to  see  the  funeral  pass. 


58  .  THE   MONUMENTS 

great  poets,  but  of  which  the  doors  were  closed  against 
all  that  remained  of  Byron.'  ^  Hard  trial  to  the  guar- 
dians of  the  Abbey  at  that  juncture :  let  us  not  con- 
demn either  him  or  them  too  harshly,  but  rather  ponder 
his  own  description  of  himself  in  the  speech  of  Man- 
fred's Abbot.  Coleridge,  poet  and  philosopher,  rests  at 
Highgate;  and  when  Queen  Emma,  from  the  Islands 
of  the  Pacific,  asked  in  the  Abbey  for  a  memorial  of 
the  author  of  the  'Ancient  Mariner,'  she  asked  in 
southey  vain.  Southey  and  Wordsworth  have  been 
d'^'sis^'^'^^  more  fortunate.  Though  they  rest  by  the 
K^sw'ick*  lakes  they  loved  so  well,  Southey's  bust  looks 
worthTdied  down  upou  US  from  over  the  shoulder  of  Shak- 
fsso,  buried   spcarc ;  and  Wordsworth,  by  the  sentiment  of 

atGrasmere.  i-  •  i.     ^     •       J.^         rt       j.-   j_  j. 

a  kmsman,  is  seated  m  the  Baptistery  —  not 
unsuited  to  the  innocent  presence  of  childhood  at  the 
sacred  font  —  not  unworthy  to  make  that  angle  of 
the  Nave  the  nucleus  of  a  new  Poets '  Corner  of  future 
years.  Beside  him,  by  a  like  concord  of  ideas,  has 
^  ,,    ...    been  erected  by  almost  the  sole  munificence 

Keble,  died  ^ 

mouth'™"  "^  ^  generous  admirer  —  Edward  Twisleton  — 

fseefb'uHed  the   bust  of  Keble,  author  of  the  'Christian 

Hertert*^^'  Year,'  who  himself  wrote  the  reverential  epi- 

atll'm^ertM.  ^apli  ou  Wordswortli's  monument  at  Grasmero, 

isl^rbOTied  and  who,  if   by  his   prose   he  represents  an 

at  Dereham,  gcdgsiastical  party,  by  his  poetry  belongs  to 
the  whole  of  English  Christendom.     The  stained  glass 


1  Macaulay's  Essays,  ii.  338.  —  It  was  understood  that  an  unfavour- 
able answer  would  he  given  to  any  application  to  inter  Byron  in  the 
Abbey.  (Moore's  Life,  vi.  221.)  He  was  buried  in  the  village  church 
at  Hucknall,  near  Newstead.  The  question  was  revived  on  the  sug- 
gestion that  the  statue  of  Bj-ron  by  Thorwaldsen  should  be  admitted. 
This  also  was  refused,  and  the  refusal  caused  an  angry  altercation  in  tlie 
House  of  Lords  between  Lord  Brougham  and  Bishop  Blomfiekl.  See 
Appendix  to  Lord  Broughtou's  Travels  in  Albania,  vol.  i.  pp.  522-544. 


OF  THE   MEN  OF   LETTERS.  59 

above,  given  by  a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  commem- 
orates two  sacred  poets,  alike  connected  with  West- 
minster in  their  early  days,  and  representing  in  their 
gentle  strains  the  two  opposite  sides  of  the  English 
Church  —  George  Herbert  and  William  Cowper. 

A  poet  of  another  kind,  Edward  Bulwer,  Lord  Lytton, 
whose  indefatigable  labours  in  the  various  brandies  of 
literature  reached  over  a  period  of  half  a  cen-  LordLytton, 

diedJimelS, 

tury,  lies  apart  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Edmund,  1873. 
amongst   the   ancient   nobles,   and   by   the   side   of   a 
warrior  whose  fall  on  the  field  of  Barnet  he  had  cele- 
brated in  one  of  the  best  of  his  romances. 

We  return  to  the  western  aisle  of  the  South  Transept. 
There  lies  the  brilliant  poet  and  historian  who,  perhaps, 
of  all  who  have  trod  the  floor  of  the  Abbey,  or  lie 
buried  within  its  precincts,  most  deeply  knew  and 
felt  its  manifold  interests,  and  most  unceas-  Macauiay, 
ingly  commemorated  them.  Lord  Macaulay  i.'sg.^bu'rfed 
rests  at  the  foot  of  the  statue  of  Addison,  ^°'  '  ^^'^^' 
whose  character  and  genius  none  had  painted  as  he; 
carrying  with  him  to  his  grave  the  story  of  the  reign 
of  Queen  Anne,  which  none  but  he  could  adequately 
tell.  And  whilst,  from  one  side  of  that  statue,  his 
bust  looks  towards  the  Eoyal  Sepulchres,  in  the  oppo- 
site niche  is  enshrined  that  of  another  no  less  profound 
admirer  of  the  '  Spectator,'  who  had  often  expressed 
his  interest  in  the  spot  as  he  wandered  through  the 
Transept  —  William    Makepeace    Thackeray.  Thackeray, 

(lied  Dec.  24 

Close  under  the  bust  of  Thackeray  lies  Charles  ises,  bmied' 

at  Kensal 

Dickens,  not,  it  may  be,  his  equal  in  humour.  Green. 
but  more  than  his  equal  in  his  hold   on  the    popular 
mind,  as  was  shown  in  the  intense  and  general  enthu- 
siasm evinced  over  his  grave.     The  funeral,  according  to 
Dickens's  urgent  and   express  desire  in   his  will,  was 


60  THE   MONUMENTS 

strictly  private.  It  took  place  at  an  early  hour  in 
the  summer  morning,  the  grave  having  been  dug  in 
secret  the  night  before,  and  the  vast  solitary  space 
of  the  Abbey  was  occupied  only  by  the  small  band  of 
the  mourners  and  the  Abbey  Clergy,  who,  without 
any  music  except  the  occasional  peal  of  the  organ,  read 
the  funeral  service.  For  days  the  spot  was  visited 
by  thousands ;  many  were  the  flowers  strewn  upon 
it  by  unknown  hands,  many  were  the  tears  shed  by 
the  poorer  visitors.  He  rests  beside  Sheridan,  Garrick, 
and  Henderson.  In  the  same  transept,  close  by  the 
bust  of  Camden  and  Casaubon,  lie  in  the  same  grave 
Grote  and  Thirlwall,  both  scholars  together  at  Charter- 
house, both  historians  of  Greece,  the  philosophic  states- 
man and  the  judicial  theologian. 

The  dramatists,  who  complete  the  roll  of  the  writers 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  throw  us  back  on  another 
succession  of  notables  whose  entrance  into  the 
Abbey  is  itself  significant,  from  the  contrast 
which  it  brings  out  between  the  French  and  the  English 
Church  in  reference  to  the  stage.  In  France  '  the 
sacraments  were  denied  to  actors  who  refused  to  repu- 
diate their  profession,^  and  their  burial  was  the  burial 
of  a  dog.  Among  these  was  the  beautiful  and  gifted 
Le  Couvreur.  She  died  without  having  abjured  the 
profession  she  had  adorned,  and  she  was  buried  in  a 
field  for  cattle  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine.  .  .  .  Molifere 
was  the  object  of  especial  denunciation ;  and  when  he 
died,  it  was  with  extreme  difficulty  that  permission 
could  be  obtained  to  bury  him  in  consecrated  ground. 
The  religious  mind  of  Eacine  recoiled  before  the  cen- 

1  A  curious  exception  was  made  in  favour  of  the  singers  at  the 
opera,  who,  by  an  ingenious  fiction,  were  considered  part  of  the  Royal 
Household  of  France. 


OF  THE  ACTORS.  61 

sure.  He  ceased  to  write  for  the  stage  when  in  the 
zenith  of  his  powers;  and  an  extraordinary  epitaph, 
while  recording  his  virtues,  acknowledges  that  there 
was  one  stain  upon  his  memory  —  that  he  had  been 
a  dramatic  poet.'  The  same  view  of  the  stage  has 
also  prevailed  in  the  Calvinistic  Churches.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Italian  Church,  with  the  Pope  at  its 
head,  has  always  regarded  the  profession  of  actors  as 
innocent,  if  not  laudable ;  and  with  this  has,  on  the 
whole,  agreed  the  practice  of  the  Church  of  England. 
The  reward  of  its  forbearance  has  been  that,  'if  we 
except  the  short  period  of  depravity  which  followed 
the  Eestoration,  the  English  theatre  has  been  that  in 
which  the  moralist  can  find  least  to  condemn.' ^ 

Of  this  triumph  of  the  stage  —  of  this  proof  of  the 
toleration  of  the  English  Church  towards  it  —  AVest- 
minster  Abbey  is  the  crowning  scene ;  and  probably 
through  this  alone  has  won  a  place  in  the  French  lit- 
erature of  the  last  century.^  Not  only  has  it  included 
under  its  walls  the  memorials  of  the  greatest  of  drama- 


1  Leckv's  History  of  Rationalism,  ii.  347,  349,  354. 

2  O  rivale  d'Athene !  6  Londres,  heureuse  terre ! 
Ainsi  que  les  tyrans  vous  avez  su  chasser 

Les  prejuge's  honteux  qui  vous  livraient  la  guerre. 

C'est  la  qu'on  salt  tout  dire,  et  tout  re'compeuser, 

Nul  art  n'est  me'prise',  tout  succes  a  sa  gloire. 

Le  vainqueur  de  Tallard,  le  fils  de  la  victoire, 

Le  sublime  IDryden  et  le  sage  Addison, 

Et  la  charmante  Ophils  et  rimmortel  Xe\vton, 

Ont  part  au  temple  consacre  a  la  Mc'raoire, 

Et  Lecouvreur  a  Londres  aurait  eu  des  tombeaux 

Parmi  les  beaux  esprits,  les  rois  et  les  he'ros. 

Quiconque  a  des  talens  a  Londres  est  un  grand  homme. 

L'abondance  et  la  liberte' 
Ont,  apres  deux  mille  ans,  chez  vous  ressuscite 

L'esprit  de  la  Grece  et  de  Rome.  — 
Voltaire's  Ode  on  the  Death  of  Lecouvreur,  vol.  x.  360  (0/;Ai7s=01dfieldj. 


62  THE   MONUMENTS 

tists,  and  also  those  whose  morality  is  the  most  obnox- 
ious to  complaint,  but  it  has  opened  its  doors  to  the 
Anne  Old-     wliole  race  of  illustrious  actors  and  actresses. 

field,  buried  •in 

Oct. 27, 1730.  A  protest  indeed,  as  we  have  seen,  was  raised 
against  the  epitaph  of  Shadwell,  and  also  against  the 
monument  of  Anne  Oldfield :  — 

Some  papers  from  the  Honourable  Brigadier  Churchill, 
asking  leave  to  put  up  in  the  Abbey  a  monument  and  an  in- 
scription to  the  memory  of  the  late  Mrs.  Oldfield,  being  this 
day  delivered  in  Chapter  to  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Eochester 
and  Dean  of  the  said  Church,  and  the  same  being  examined 
and  read,  his  lordship  the  Dean  was  pleased  to  declare  that 
he  "was  so  far  from  thinking  the  matter  therein  proposed 
proper  to  be  granted,  that  he  could  neither  consent  to  it  him- 
self, nor  put  any  question  to  the  Chapter  concerning  it.-^ 

But,  even  in  this  extreme  case,  the  funeral  had  been 
permitted. 

Her  extraordinary  grace  of  manner  drew  a  veil  over 
her  many  failings  :  — 

There  was  such  a  composure  in  her  looks,  and  propriety 
in  her  dress,  that  you  would  think  it  impossible  she  could 
change  the  garb  you  one  day  saw  her  in  for  anything  so  be- 
coming, till  the  next  day  you  saw  her  in  another.  There 
was  no  mystery  in  this  but  that,  however  apparelled,  herself 
was  the  same  ;  for  there  is  an  immediate  relation  between 
our  thoughts  and  our  gestures,  that  a  woman  must  think 
well  to  look  well.^ 

She  was  brought  in  state  to  the  Jerusalem  Chamber, 
and  buried,  with  the  utmost  pomp,  at  the  west  end  of 
the   Nave.     Her  grave  is  in  a   not   unsuitable  place, 

1  Chapter  Book,  February  20,  1736.  ^  Tatler,  i.  104;  iv.  152. 


OF  THE  ACTORS.  63 

beneath  the  monument  of  Congreve.  Here  she  lies, 
*  buried '  (according  to  the  testimony  of  her  maid,  Eliza- 
beth Saunders),  '  in  a  very  fine  Brussels  lace  head,  a 
Holland  shift,  and  double  ruffles  of  the  same  lace,  a  pair 
of  new  kid  gloves,  and  her  body  wrapped  in  a  winding- 
sheet.' 

'  Odious  !  in  woollen  !  't  would  a  saint  provoke,' 
"Were  the  last  words  that  poor  Narcissa  spoke ; 
*  No,  let  a  charming  chintz  and  Brussels  lace 
Wrap  my  cold  limbs,  and  shade  my  lifeless  face : 
One  would  not,  sure,  be  frightful  when  one  's  dead  — 
And  —  Betty  —  give  this  cheek  a  little  red.'  ^ 

Anne  Bracegirdle  —  earlier  in  her  career,  but,  by  the 
great  age  at  which  she  died  (in  her  eighty-sixth  year), 
later  in  the  Abbey  — lies  in  the  East  Cloister.  ^^"^  .  ,, 

"^  Bracegirdle, 

She  was  the  most  popular  actress  of  her  time.^  iTms^"^'^' 
Mrs.  Gibber  lies  in  the  North  Cloister.    '  Cibber  susanna 
(Jead  ! '  exclaimed  Garrick,  '  then  Tragedy  ex-  cibber,  1766. 
pired  with  her.'  ^     An  inscription  by  White-  Prlrhard, 
head,  in  Poets'  Corner,  records  the  better  qual-  Batll,^768. 
ities  of  '  Prichard,  by  nature  for  the  stage  designed.'  * 

Of  the  race  of  male  actors,  first  came  Betterton,  the 
Roscius  of  his  age.  After  a  long  Hfe,  in  which  he  had 
been  familiar  with  the  leading  wits  of  the  Betteiton, 
reign  of  Charles  II.,  he  was  buried  in  the  2',"mo/  ^^ 
south  end  of  the  East  Cloister ;  and  of  no  funeral  of  that 
time,  except  Addison's,  is  left  a  more  touching  account 
than  that  by  his  friend  Sir  Eichard  Steele  :  — 

Having  received  notice  that  the  famous  actor  Mr.  Bet- 
terton was  to  be  interred  this  evening  in  the  Cloisters  near 

1  Pope,  V.  279.  2  Macaulay,  iv.  310. 

8  Previous  to  her  funeral  a  notice  was  put  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
chapel,  'Pray  for  the  soul  of  Mrs.  Anna  Cibber.'     (Ann.  Reg.  1761.) 
*  Churchill's  Rosciad. 


64  THE   MONUMENTS 

Westminster  Abbey,  I  was  resolved  to  walk  thither,  and  see 
the  last  office  done  to  a  man  whom  I  had  always  very  much 
admired,  and  from  whose  action  I  had  received  more  strong 
impressions  of  what  is  great  and  noble  in  human  nature,  than 
from  the  arguments  of  the  most  solid  philosophers,  or  the  de- 
scriptions of  the  most  charming  poets  I  had  ever  read.  .  .  . 
While  I  walked  in  the  Cloisters,  I  thought  of  him  with  the 
same  concern  as  if  I  waited  for  the  remains  of  a  person  who 
had  in  real  life  done  all  that  I  had  seen  him  represent.  The 
gloom  of  tlie  place,  and  faint  lights  before  the  ceremony  ap- 
peared, contributed  to  the  melancholy  disposition  I  was  in  ; 
and  I  began  to  be  extremely  afflicted  that  Brutus  and  Cassius 
had  any  difference,  that  Hotspur's  gallantry  was  so  unfortu- 
nate, and  that  the  mirth  and  good  humour  of  Falstaflf  could 
not  exempt  him  from  the  grave.  'Naj,  this  occasion  in  me, 
who  look  upon  the  distinctions  amongst  men  to  be  merely 
scenical,  raised  reflections  upon  the  emptiness  of  all  human 
perfection  and  greatness  in  general ;  and  I  could  not  but  re- 
gret that  the  sacred  heads  which  lie  buried  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  this  little  portion  of  earth  in  which  my  poor  old 
friend  is  deposited,  are  returned  to  dust  as  well  as  he,  and 
that  there  is  no  difference  in  the  grave  between  the  imaginary 
and  the  real  monarch. ^ 

The  memory  of  Betterton's  acting  was  handed  on  by 
Barton  Booth,  celebrated  as  the  chief  performer  of 
Addison's  '  Cato.' 

Booth  enters ;  hark  the  universal  peal  I 
But  has  he  spoken  ?    Kot  a  syllable  ! 

It  was  said  of  him  that  as  Romeo,   'whilst  Garrick 
Booth,  died    seemed  to  be  drawn  up  to  Juliet,  he  seemed  to 

May  10  1733,  ^ 

buried  at      draw  Jullct  dowu  to  him.'    His  bust  in  Poets' 

Cowley,  near 

uxbridge.      Corner,  erected  by  his  second  wife  (Mrs.  Laid- 

law,  an  actress),  in  1772,  is  probably  as  much  owing  to 

1  Tatler,  No.  167. 


OF  THE  ACTORS.  65 

his  connection  with  Westminster  as  to  his  histrionic 
talent.  He  was  educated  at  Westminster  School  under 
Busby,  from  which  he  escaped  to  Ireland  to  indulge  his 
passion  for  the  stage;  and  he  possessed  property  in 
Westminster,  called  Barton  Street  (from  his  own  name) 
and  Cowlnj  Street  (from  his  country  residence).  His 
surname  has  acquired  a  fatal  celebrity  from  his  de- 
scendant, Wilkes  Booth,  who  followed  in  his  ancestor's 
profession,  and,  by  the  knowledge  so  gained,  assassinated 
President  Lincoln  in  Ford's  Theatre  at  Washington,  on 
Good  Friday,  1865. 

In  the  North  Cloister  is  Spranger  Barry  and  his 
wife,  Anne  Crawford  — '  in  person  taller  than  the  com- 
mon size '  —  famous  as   '  Othello  '   and   '  Ko-  Barry, 

buried  Jan. 

meo.'    In  this  character  he  and  his  great  rival,  20, 1777. 
Garrick,  played  against  each  other  so  long  as  to  give 
rise  to  the  proverb,  '  Borneo  again  !  a  plague  on  ^^^^^  ^.^^ 
both  your  houses  ! '    And  in  the  same  year,  in  ^uJied  Nov. 
the  West  Cloister,  was  interred  the  comedian,  ^'  ^'"• 
Samuel  Foote,  'who  pleased  Dr.  Johnson  against  his 
will.'     '  The  dog  was  so  very  comical  —  Sir,  he  was 
irresistible ! ' 

At  last  came  the  '  stroke  of  death,  which  eclipsed  the 
gaiety  of  nations  and  impoverished  the  public  stock  of 
harmless  pleasures.'     From  Adelphi  Terrace,  David 

.  Garrick, 

where  Garrick  died,  a  long  Ime  of  carriages  died  Jan.  20, 

°  *^        buried  Feb. 

reached  to  the  Abbey.  The  crowd  was  so  dense  1, 1779. 
that  a  military  guard  was  needed  to  keep  order.  Covent 
Garden  and  Drury  Lane  were  each  represented  by 
twelve  players.  The  coffin  was  carried  through  the 
west  door.  Amongst  the  members  of  the  Literary  Club 
who  attended  in  a  body,  were  Beynolds,  Burke,  Gibbon, 
and  Johnson.  '  I  saw  old  Samuel  Johnson,'  says  Cum- 
berland, 'standing  at  the  foot  of  Shakspeare's  monu- 

VOL.  n.  —  5 


66  THE   MONUMENTS 

ment,  and  bathed  in  tears.'  At  the  foot  of  that  statue  ^ 
he  was  laid,  by  the  spot  whither  he  was  soon  followed 
Garrick's  ^J  ^^^^  fomicr  preceptor.  His  monument  was 
raoiiuiiieut.  raised  high  aloft  on  the  opposite  wall  —  with 
all  the  emblems  of  tragic  art,  and  with  an  inscription 
by  Pratt  ^  —  which  has  provoked  the  only  serious  re- 
monstrance against  the  introduction  of  these  theatrical 
memorials,  and  that  not  from  any  austere  fanatic,  but 
from  the  gentlest  and  most  genial  of  mortals  :  — 

Taking  a  turn  in  the  Abbey  the  other  day  [says  Charles 
Lamb],  I  was  struck  with  the  affected  attitude  of  a  figure, 
which,  on  examination,  proved  to  be  a  whole-length  repre- 
sentation of  the  celebrated  Mr.  Garrick.  Thougli  I  would 
not  go  so  far,  with  some  good  Catholics  abroad,  as  to  shut 
players  altogether  out  of  consecrated  ground,  yet  I  own  I  was 
a  little  scandaHsed  at  the  introduction  of  theatrical  airs  and 
gestures  into  a  place  set  apart  to  remind  us  of  the  saddest 
realities.  Going  nearer,  I  found  inscribed  under  this  harle- 
quin figure  a  farrago  of  false  thoughts  and  nonsense.^ 

The  last  actor  buried  in  the  Abbey  was  John  Hender- 
john  Hen-  SOU,  whosc  chief  parts  were  Shylock  and  Fal- 
buHed'oec.  Staff,  and  who  first  played  Macbeth  in  Scottish 
aged  38.  costuuie.  He  died  suddenly  in  his  prime, 
and  was  laid  *  beside  Cumberland  and  Sheridan.     Two 

1  Life  of  Rei/nolds,  ii.  247  ;  Fitzgerald's   Garrick,  ii.  445.     Garrick's 

widow  is  buried  with  him,  in  her  wedding  sheets.  She 
Eva  Maria  survived  him  forty-three  years  —  'a  little  bowed-down  old 
died  Oct.  16,  woman,  who  went  about  leaning  on  a  gold-headed  cane, 
1822,  aged  dressed  in  deep  widow's  mourning,  and  always  talking  of 
Oct.  25.  her  dear  Davy.'     {Pen  and  Ink  SLrtches,  1864.)      For  her 

funeral,  see  Smith's  Book  for  a  Bainj/  Dai/,  p.  226. 

2  An  inscription  had  lieen  prepared  by  Burke,  which  was  thought 
too  long.  (Windham's  Diary,  p.  361.)  For  Sheridan's  Monodt/,  see 
Fitzgerald's  Garrick,  ii.  445. 

3  Charles  Lamb's  Prose  Works,  25. 

*  Hie  wife  was  interred  on  his  coflm  in  1819.     (See  Neale,  ii.  270.) 


OF  THE  MUSICIANS.  67 

cenotaphs,  now  side  by  side,  in  St.  Andrew's  Chapel,  com- 
memorate the  two  most  iUustrious  of  the  modern  family 
of  actors  —  Sarah  Siddons  and  her  brother,  John  Kem- 
ble.  The  statue  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  by  Chantrey  statue  of 
(suggested  by  Eeynolds's  portrait  of  her  as  dons,  died 
the  Tragic  Muse)  stands  in  colossal  propor-  J^'^^  ^' ^^•^i- 
tions,  m  a  place  selected,  after  much  deliberation,  by 
the  sculptor  and  the  three  successive  Deans  of  that 
time.  The  cost  was  defrayed  by  Macready,  and  the 
name  affixed  after  a  long  consultation  with  Lord  Lans- 
downe  and  Rogers.    The  statue  of  John  Philip  statue^of 

°  Jolui  Philip 

Kemble,   by   Hinchcliffe    (after   a   design    of  Kenibie 

'J  ^  "^  died  Feb. 

Flaxman)  was  in  1865  moved  from  an  inap-  ~^^^^fl-^^^ 
propriate   site  in  the  North  Transept,   with  Lausanne. 
the  concurrence  of  his  niece,  Fanny  Kemble.     He  is 
represente'd  as  '  Cato.' 

Not  altogether  alien  to  the  stage,  but  more  congenial 
to  the  Church,  is  the  series  of  eminent  musicians,  who 
in  fact  formed  a  connecting  link  between  the  ,^ 

*^  Musicians. 

two,  which  has  since  been  almost  severed.  In 
a  humourous  letter,  imagined  to  be  ^vTitten  from  one  to 
the  other  in  the  nether  world,  of  two  of  the  most 
famous  of  these  earlier  leaders  of  the  art,  they  are  com- 
pared to  Mahomet's  coffin,  equally  attracted  by  the 
Theatre  and  Earth  —  the  Church  and  Heaven.^ 

Henry  Lawes  lies,  unnamed,  in  the  Cloisters,  prob- 
ably from  his  place  in  the  Chapel  Royal  under  ^^^^^^  ^.^^ 
Charles  I.  and  the  Commonwealth,  in  which  byj-gd^oet. 
he  composed  the  anthem  for  the  coronation  ^^  ^'^^^• 
of   Charles   II.,  the  year  before  his  death.      But  his 

1  Tom  Brown's  Letters  from  the  Dead  to  the  Living.  (Blow  and 
Purcell.)  It  is  also  one  of  the  complaints  in  the  London  Spy  (p.  187), 
against  the  quiremen  of  the  Abbey,  that  they  should  '  sing  at  the  play- 
house.' 


68  THE   MONUMENTS 

chief  fame  arises  from  his  connection  with  Milton. 
He  composed  the  music  of  '  Comus,'  and  himself  acted 
the  part  of  the  attendant  spirit  in  its  representation  at 
Ludlow  ;  and  his  reward  was  the  sonnet  which  rehearses 
his  peculiar  gift  — 

Harry,  whose  tuneful  and  well-measur'd  lay 

First  taught  our  English  music  how  to  span 

Words  with  just  note  and  accent  — 

To  after  age  thou  shall  be  writ  the  man 

That  with  smooth  air  could  humour  best  our  tongues. 

Christopher  Gibbons  (son  of  the  more  famous^  Or- 
^,  .  ,    ,       lando  )  also  lies  unmarked  in  the  Cloisters  — 

Christopher  / 

burredoct  ^^^^  ^^  ^^^®  famous  organists  of  the  Abbey, 
24,1676.       ^^^  master  of  Blow. 

But  the  first  musician  who  was  buried  within  the 
Church  ■ — •  the  Chaucer,  as  it  were,  of  the  Musicians' 
Purceii  died  Comcr  —  was  Hcnrj  Purcell,^  organist  of  the 
buried  Nov  ^bbey,  who  died  nearly  at  the  same  early 
25, 1695.  g  g  which  was  fatal  to  Mozart,  Schubert,^  and 
Mendelssohn,  and  was  buried  in  the  north  aisle  of 
the  Choir,  close  to  the  organ*  which  he  had  been  the 
first  to  raise  to  celebrity,  and  with  the  Anthem  which 
he  had  but  a  few  months  before  composed  for  the 
funeral  of  Queen  Mary.     The  tablet  above  was  erected 

1  Orlando  Gibbons  is  buried  in  Canterbury  Cathedral. 

2  He  was  born  in  a  house,  of  which  some  vestiges  still  remain,  in 
Old  Pye  Street,  Westminster,  and  lived,  as  organist,  in  a  house  on  the 
site  of  that  now  occupied  by  the  Precentor,  in  Dean's  Yard.  Whilst 
sitting  on  the  steps  of  that  house  he  caught  the  cold  which  ended 
fatally. 

3  Schubert  died  at  32,  Mozart  at  35,  Purcell  at  37,  Mendelssohn 
at  38. 

*  The  organ  then  stood  close  to  Purcell's  monument.  *  Dum  vicina 
organa  spirant'  are  the  words  of  the  inscription  on  his  gravestone,  lately 
restored,  which  also  records  his  double  fame  both  in  secular  and  sacred 
music  — '  Musa  pro/ana  suos,  religiosa  suos.' 


OF   THE  MUSICIANS.  69 

by  his  patroness,  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard,  the  wife  of 
Dryden,  who  is  said  to  have  composed  the  epitaph  ^  — 
'  Here  lies  Henry  Purcell,  Esq.,  who  left  this  gpjt  ,j  ^^ 
life,  and  is  gone  to  that  blessed  place  where  P^^eii. 
only  his  harmonies  can  be  excelled.'  As  '  Tom  Brown  '  ^ 
and  his  boisterous  companions  passed  this  way,  they 
overlooked  all  the  other  monuments,  '  except  that  of 
Harry  Purcell,  the  memory  of  whose  harmony  held ' 
even  those  coarse  '  souls  for  a  little.'  ^ 

Opposite  to  Purcell  is  the  grave  and  tablet  of  his 
master,  also  his  successor  in  the  Abbey  —  John  Blow. 
Challenged  by  James  XL  to  make  an  anthem  „,     ^   .  ^ 

°  ''  Blow,  buried 

as  good  as  that  of  one  of  the  King's  Italian  '^'^^-  ®'  ^'■*'^- 
composers,  Blow  by  the  next  Sunday  produced,  '  I  be- 
held, and  lo  a  great  multitude ! '  The  King  sent  the 
Jesuit,  Father  Petre,  to  acquaint  him  that  he  was  well 
pleased  with  it :  '  but,'  added  Petre,  '  I  myself  think  it 
too  long.'  '  That,'  replied  Blow,  '  is  the  opinion  of  but 
one  fool,  and  I  heed  it  not.'  This  quarrel  was,  happily, 
cut  short  by  the  Eevolution  of  1688.  Close  beside 
Blow  is  his  successor,  William  Croft.  His  croft,  buried 
tablet  records  his  gentleness  to  his  pupils  for  1727.  ' 
fifty  years,  and  the  fitness  of  his  own  Hallelujah  to  the 
heavenly  chorus,  with  the  text,  '  Awake  up  my  glory, 
awake  lute  and  harp ;  I  myself  will  awake  right  early.' 

^  Neale,  ii.  221.  —  The  same  thought  of  tlie  welcome  of  the  heavenly 
choir  was  expressed  in  Dryden's  elegy  upon  him  — 

they  handed  him  along 
And  all  the  way  he  tauglit,  and  all  the  way  they  sung. 
Possibly  suggested  by  a  somewhat  similar  line  in  Cowley's  Monody  on 
Crawshaw  — 

aud  they. 
And  thou,  their  charge,  went  singing  all  the  way. 

2  Vol.  iii.  p.  127. 

3  'Peter  Abbot,'  on  the  night  of  July  1,  1800,  made  a  wager  thai? 
he  would  write  his  name  on  this  monument.     See  Chapter  II. 


70  THE   MONUMENTS 

He  will  be  longer  remembered  in  the  Abbey  for  the 

union  of  his  music  with  Purcell's  at  its  great  funerals. 

Samuel  Arnold,  the  voluminous  composer,  lies 

Oct.  22',        next  to  Purcell ;  and  opposite  his  tablet  is  that 

■buried  Oct.  .  phi  it  i 

20, 1802,        of  the  historian  or  all  those  who  lie  around 

Blimey,  died  ,         -r-w  1  1   i  i  i-   ^^  i 

i^i^-  him  —  Charles  Burney,^  and  last  has  followed 

Bennett,  , 

1875.  Sir  William  Sterndale  Bennett.     In  the  south 

Coolie, 

buried  Sept.  q^^^^  wcst  Cloistcrs  are  several  musicians  of 
21, 1793. 

lesser   fame,    among   them   Benjamin   Cooke, 

with  his  '  canon '  engraved  on  his  monument ;  William 
Shield  Feb.  Shield,  the  composer,  at  whose  funeral,  by 
4. 1829.  ^Yie  express  command  of  George  IV.,^  the 
choirs  of  the  Chapels  Eoyal  and  of  St.  Paul's  at- 
Muziocie-  tended;  and  Muzio  Clementi,  whose  grand- 
menti,  1832.  children  have  recently  rescued  his  grave 
from  oblivion. 

One,  the  greatest  of  all,  has  found  his  resting-place 
in  a  less  appropriate,  though  still  a  congenial  spot, 
jj^^jig,  Handel  had  lived  in  the  society  of  poets.  It 
H  bmied  was  Arbuthnot,  the  friend  of  Pope,  who  said, 
cor^ne^Aprii  '  Conccive  the  highest  you  can  of  his  abilities, 
^^'  ^^^^'  and  they  are  much  beyond  anything  that  you 
can  conceive.'  He  who  composed  the  '  Messiah,'  and 
*  Israel  in  Egypt,'  must  have  been  a  poet,  no  less  than 
a  musician,  of  no  ordinary  degree.^  Therefore  he  was 
not  unfitly  buried  in  Poets'  Corner,  apart  from  his  tune- 
ful brethren.     Not  less  than  three  thousand  persons  of 

Hawkins  ^  '^^^  Other  historian  of  music  —  the  biographer  of  .John- 

buried  May  son  —  Sir  John  Hawkins,  lies  in  the  North  Cloister,  with 
28, 17&9.         ^^jy.  ^j^g  letters  .J.  H.,  by  his  own  desire,  on  the  gravestone. 

2  Sir  George  Smart  told  Mr.  Lodge,  to  whom  I  owe  the  fact,  that 
the  funeral  was  the  finest  service  of  the  kind  in  his  recollection.  Shield 
left  his  violoncello  to  the  King,  wlio  accepted  the  bequest,  but  caused 
the  full  value  to  be  paid  to  his  widow. 

3  '  I  would  uncover  my  head  and  kneel  at  his  tomb.'     (Beethoven.) 


OF  THE   MUSICIANS.  71 

all  ranks  attended  the  funeral.  Above  his  grave,  by 
his  own  provision,  Eoubiliac  erected  his  monument, 
with  the  inscription,  '  I  know  that  my  Eedeemer  liveth.' 
There  stands  the  unwieldy  musician,  with  the  '  enor- 
mous white  wig,  which  had  a  certain  nod  or  vibration 
when  things  went  well  at  the  oratorio.'  ^  It  was  no 
doubt  accidental  that  the  figure  faces  eastward ;  but  it 
gave  an  exquisite  pleasure  to  the  antiquary  Carter, 
when  (in  contrast  to  the  monument  of  Shakspeare),  he 
saw  '  the  statue  of  this  more  than  man  turn- 

Uis  statue. 

ing  his  eyes  to  where  the  Eternal  Father  of 
Heaven  is  supposed  to  sit  enthroned,  King  of  kings, 
and  Lord  of  lords.'  ^  '  He  had  most  seriously  and  de- 
voutly wished,  for  some  days  before  his  death,  that  he 
might  breathe  his  last  on  Good  Friday,  in  hopes,  he 
said,  of  meeting  his  good  God,  his  sweet  Lord  and 
Saviour,  on  the  day  of  His  resurrection.'  ^  And  a  belief 
to  tliis  eifect  prevailed  amongst  his  friends.  But  in 
fact  he  died  at  8  A.  M.  on  Easter  Eve.  It  was  the  circum- 
stance of  Handel's  burial  in  the  Abbey  that  led  to  the 
musical  commemoration  there  on  the  centenary  of  his 
birth,  which  is  recorded  above  his  monument.* 

1  Jiurney's  Life  of  Hcwdel,  36.  'Nature  required  a  great  supply  of 
sustenance  to  support  so  large  a  mass,  and  he  was  rather  epicurean  in 
the  choice  of  it.'  (Ibid.  p.  32.)  His  ''  hand  was  so  fat  that  the  knuckles 
were  like  those  of  a  child.'  (Ibid.  p.  .35.)  For  the  curious  care  with 
which  Roubiliac  modelled  the  ear  of  Handel,  see  Smith's  Life  of  Nolle- 
kens,  ii.  87. 

2  Gent.  Mag.  (1774),  part.  ii.  p.  670. 

^  Burney,  p.  31,  states  that  on  the  monument  the  date  of  his  death 
had  been  inscribed  as  Saturday,  April  14,  and  that  it  was  corrected  to 
'  Good  Friday,'  April  13.  This  is  a  complete  mistake.  His  monument, 
his  gravestone  beneath  it,  the  Burial  Register,  and  the  account  of  an 
eyewitness  in  Mrs.  Delaney's  Memoirs,  all  agree  in  the  date  of  Saturday, 
April  14.  See  Mr.  Husk's  Preface  to  the  Book  of  Words  of  the 
Handel  Festival. 

4  See  Chapter  VI. 


72  THE   MONUMENTS 

Music  and  poetry  are  the  only  arts  which  are 
adequately  represented  in  the  Abbey.  Sir  Godfrey 
ARTISTS.  Kneller  is  its  only  painter,  and  even  he  is  not 
Oct  27?i723,  buried  within  its  walls.  '  Sir  Godfrey  sent  to 
KuefierHaii.  me,'  says  Pope, '  just  before  he  died.  He  began 
by  telling  me  he  was  now  convinced  he  could  not  live, 
and  fell  into  a  passion  of  tears.  I  said  I  hoped  he 
might,  but  if  not  he  knew  that  it  was  the  will  of  God. 
He  answered,  "  No,  no;  it  is  the  Evil  Spirit."  The  next 
word  he  said  was  this :  "  By  God,  I  will  not  he  buried 
in  Westminster  !  "  I  asked  him  why  ?  He  answered, 
"  They  do  bury  fools  there."  Then  he  said  to  me,  "  My 
good  friend,  where  will  you  be  buried  ? "  I  said, 
"  Wherever  I  drop  —  very  likely  in  Twickenham."  He 
replied,  "  So  will  I."  He  proceeded  to  desire  that  I 
Pope's  would  write  his  epitaph,  which  I  j)romised 
Kneller.  him.' ^  Hc  was  burlcd  in  the  garden  of  his 
manor  at  Whitton  —  now  Kneller  Hall.  He  chose  for 
his  monument  in  the  church  at  Twickenham  a  position 
already  occupied  (on  the  north-east  wall  of  the  churcli) 
by  Pope's  tablet  to  his  father.  An  angry  correspond- 
ence ensued  after  Kneller's  death  between  his  widow 
and  Pope,  and  the  monument  was  ultimately  placed  in 
the  Abbey.2  The  difficulty  did  not  end  even  there. 
Pope  fulfilled  his  promise  at  his  friend's  deathbed,  but 
thought  the  epitaph  '  the  worst  thing  he  ever  wrote  in 
his  life,'  and  Dr.  Johnson  said  of  it : 

Of  this  epitaph  the  first  couplet  is  good,  the  second  not 
had  ;  the  third  is  deformed  with  a  broken  metaphor,  the  word 

1  Pope's  Works,  iii.  374. 

'^  At  the  west  end  of  tlie  Nave,  where  Fox's  monument  now  is.  It 
was  there  so  conspicuous  and  solitary  as  to  be  made  a  landmark  for  the 
processions  in  the  Nave.  (See  Precentor's  Book  on  Queen  Caroline's 
funerai,  1737.)  It  was  moved  by  Dean  Bucklaud  to  the  south  aisle  of 
the  Choir. 


OF  THE   MEN  OF   SCIENCE.  73 

croivned  not  being  applicable  to  the  honours  or  the  lays ;  and 
the  fourth  is  not  only  borrowed  from  the  epitaph  on  Raphael, 
but  of  a  very  harsh  construction.^ 

After  this  unfortunate  beginning,  no  painter  has 
been,  or  probably  ever  will  be,  interred  within  the 
Abbey.  The  burial  of  Sir  Joshua  Eeynolds  in  St. 
Paul's  has  carried  with  it  the  commemoration  of  all 
future  artists  in  the  crypt  of  that  great  cathedral.^ 

Of  architects  and  sculptors,  Dickinson,  the  manager 
who  worked  under  Wreu,  was  buried  in  the  chief  site 
of  his  achievements  —  the  restored  or  defaced  North 
Porch ;  the  graves  of  Chambers,  Wyatt,  and  chambers. 
Adam,  and  the  monument  of  Taylor,  are  in  March  is, 
the  South  Transept,  and  the  tablet  of  Banks  wyatt,  sept. 

28   1S13 

in  the  North  Aisle ;  and  in  the  Nave  lie  Sir  Adam,  1792 
Charles  Barry,  whose  grave  is  adorned,  in  Banks,' isos! 
brass,  by  a  memorial  of  his  own  vast  work  22,  iseo. 
in  the  adjacent  pile  of  the  New  Palace  of  Westmin- 
ster,- and  Sir  Gilbert  Scott,  the  leader  of  the  Gothic 
revival. 

The  "West  Cloister  contains  the  monuments  of  the 
two   engravers,   Vertue  —  wdio,  as  a  Roman  vei-tne,  1756. 
Catholic,  was  buried  near  an  old  monk,  of  his  nss. 
family,  laid  there  just  before  the  Dissolution^ — and 
Woollett,*  '  Incisor  Kcccllcntissimus.' 

It  is  a  proof  of  the  late,  slow,  and  gradual  growth  of 
science  in  England,  that  it  has  not  appropri-  -^.^^^^^ 
ated  to  itself  any  special  place  in  the  Abbey,  ^"^'ence. 
but  has,  almost  before  we  are  aware  of  it,  penetrated 

1  Lives  of  the  Poets,  iii.  211. 

2  Mibnan's  Annals  of  Si.  Paul's,  475. 

3  Malcolm's  Londinnmi,  p.  193;  Nichols's  Bowyer. 
*  He  was  buried  iu  old  St.  Paucras  Churchyard. 


Y4  THE   MONUMENTS 

promiscuously  into  every  part,  much  in  the  same  way 
as  it  has  imperceptibly  influenced  all  our  social  and 
Themonu-     literary  relations  elsewhere, 
james!^  Ill   the  middle  of  the   eighteenth    century 

chariesf"*^  tlicrc  wcrc  two  important  places  vacant  in  the 
hope!  lAT,  Nave,  on  each  side  of  the  entrance  to  the 
aiiT'of '^^^ '  Choir.  That  on  the  south  was  occupied  by 
sfcuiiiope,  the  monument  designed  by  Kent  to  the  mem- 
Eari  Stan-  '  ory  of  the  first  Earl  Stanhope,  and  of  his  second 
son,  and  recordmg  also  the  characters  of  the 
second  and  third  Earls  of  the  same  proud  name,  to  which 
has  now  been  added  the  name  of  the  fifth  Earl,  distin- 
guished as  the  historian  of  the  times  in  which  his  an- 
cestors played  so  large  a  part.  They  are  all  buried  at 
Chevening.  Collectively,  if  not  singly,  they  played  a 
part  sufficiently  conspicuous  to  account  for,  if  not  to 
justify,  so  honourable  a  place  in  the  Abbey.^  But  at  the 
same  moment  that  the  artist  was  designing  this  memorial 
of  the  high-spirited  and  high-born  statesman,  he  was 
employed  in  erecting  two  other  monuments  in  the  Ab- 
bey, W'hich  outshine  every  other  name,  however  illustri- 
ous by  rank  or  heroic  action.  One  was  but  a  cenotaph, 
and  has  been  already  described — the  statue  of  Shaks- 
peare  in  Poets'  Corner.  But  the  other  w^as  to  celebrate 
the  actual  interment  of  the  only  dust  of  unquestionably 
world-wide  fame  that  the  floor  of  Westminster  covers 
^.  ,  — of  one  so  far  raised  above  all  the  political 

Sir  Isaac  i 

Mtrp^ii"'o^'^'^  or  literary  magnates  by  whom  he  is  surround- 
March28  ^^'  ^^  ^0  mark  an  era  in  the  growth  of  the 
^'^^^:  monumental    history  of    the  w^hole  building. 

On  March  28,  1727,  the  body  of   Sir   Isaac  Newton, 

1  '  Stanhope's  noble  flame.  (Pope,  vi.  .376.)  The  first  Earl  had  a 
public  fuueral  in  the  Aljbey,  after  M'hich  he  was  privately  interred  at 
Chevening,  where  still  hangs  the  banner  used  at  Westminster. 


OF  THE  MEN  OF  SCIENCE.  iO 

after  lying  in  state  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  where 
it  had  been  brought  from  his  deathbed  in  Kensington, 
was  attended  by  the  leading  members  of  the  Eoyal 
Society,  and  buried  at  the  public  cost  in  the  spot  in 
front  of  the  Choir,  which,  being  '  one  of  the  most  con- 
spicuous in  the  Abbey,  had  been  previously  His  grave, 
refused  to  various  noblemen  who  had  applied  for  it.'  ^ 
Voltaire  was  present  at  the  funeral.  The  selection  of 
this  spot  for  such  a  purpose  marks  the  moment  at 
which  the  more  sacred  recesses  in  the  interior  of  the 
church  were  considered  to  be  closed,  or  to  have  lost 
their  special  attractions,  whilst  the  publicity  of  the 
wide  and  open  spaces  hitherto  neglected  gave  them  a 
new  importance.  On  the  gravestone  ^  are  written  the 
words,  which  here  acquire  a  significance  of  j^.^  ^pj^^^j^^ 
more  than  usual  solemnity  — '  Hie  dcpositum 
quod  mortale  fait  Isaaci  Newtoni.'  ^  On  the  monument 
was  intended  to  have  been  inscribed  the  double  epitaph, 
of  Pope : 

ISAACUS   NeWTOXIUS, 

Quem  Immortalem 

Tesiantur  Tempus,  Natura  Caelum: 

Mortalem 

Hoc  marmor  fatetur. 

Nature  and  Nature's  laws  lay  hid  in  night : 
God  said,  Let  Newton  he  !  —  and  all  was  light.* 

The  actual  inscription  agrees  with  the  actual  monu- 
ment —  the  one  in  words,  the  other  in  marble  allegory, 
a  description  of  Newton's  discoveries,  closing  with  the 
summary : 

1  London  Gazelle,  April  5,  1727. 

2  Restored  to  its  place  in  1866. 

8  Johnson  had  intended, '  Isaacus  Newtoniusjerjihus  natura  investiga 
tis,  hie  qulescit:  *  Fope,  iii.  378. 


76  THE  MONUMENTS 

Naturae,  antiquitatis,  Sanctse  ScrijDturoe  sedulus,  sagax,  fidus 
iuterpres,  Dei  0.  M.  majestatem  philosopliia  asseruit ;  Evan- 
gelii  simplicitatem  moribus  expressit.  Tibi  gratulenter  mor- 
tales,  tale  tantumque  exstitisse  humani  generis  decus.^ 

His  grave,  if  not  actually  the  centre  of  the  heroes  of 
science,  yet  attracted  two  at  least  of  his  friends  towards 
Ffoikes  died  ^^®  Same  spot.  One  was  Alartin  Ffolkes,  his 
at muii--'^  deputy  at  the  Eoyal  Society,  of  which  he 
^^^-  ultimately  became  the  President,  though,  from 

his  Jacobite  principles,  he  never  was  made  a  baronet. 
He  is  buried  in  his  ancestral  place  at  Hillington,  in 
Norfolk ;  but  his  genial  character ,2  his  general  knowl- 
His  monu-  ^^Igc,  and  his  antiquarian  celebrity  as  a  numis- 
Marciflf ^"^  matist,  naturally  procured  for  him  a  memorial 
-^'^^^-  in  the  North  Aisle  of  the  Abbey.      It  was 

erected,  long  afterwards,  by  the  sister-in-law  of  his 
conduitt,  daughter  Lucretia.  The  other  was  his  relative 
29,"i737.  ""^  and  successor  in  the  Mint,  John  Conduitt, 
who  was  buried  '  on  the  right  side  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,' 
and  whose  monument,  at  the  extreme  west  end  of  the 
Nave,  was  raised  (as  its  inscription  states)  exactly 
opposite  to  his.  Incorporated  into  this,  so  as  to  con- 
Horrocks,  ncct  the  early  prodigy  of  English  Astronomy 
at  Pooie"^  with  the  name  of  its  maturest  development,  is 
the  memorial  of  Jeremiah  Horrocks,  erected  two  cen- 
turies after  the  day  on  which  he  first  observed  the 
Transit  of  Venus. 

Close   upon    these    follows   the    band   of    eminent 

1  See  the  criticism  in  the  coutinuator  of  Stowe,  p.  618. 

2  Kichoh's  Literari/  Anecdotes :  Dibdin's  BibUomania. — 'He  had  a 
Striking  resemblance  to  Peireskius,  the  ornament  of  the  seventeenth 
century.'  His  portrait,  by  Hogarth,  is  the  'picture  of  open-hearted 
English  honesty  and  hospitality,  but  does  not  indicate  much  intellect.' 
(H.  Coleridge's  Northern  Worthies.) 


OF  THE  MEN  OF    SCIENCE.  (  i 

physicians,  —  uniting  (as  so  many  since)  science  ^  and 
scholarship  with  medical  skill,  and  bound  by  ties,  more 
or  less  near,  to  the  presiding  genius  of  Westminster  at 
that  period.  'It  is  a  very  sickly  time,"'^  writes  thephy- 
the  daughter  of  Atterbury  to  her  exiled  father,  ^'"''''^• 
in  announcing  the  successive  deaths  of  his  beloved 
friends,  Chamberlen,  Arbuthnot,  and  Woodward.^ 

Hufrh  Chamberlen  was  the  last  of  the  eminent  race 
of  accoucheurs  who  brought  into  the  world  the  royal 
progeny  of   the  whole    Stuart  dynasty,  from  chamv,erien, 

r      o      ./  t/  ./  ^jgi^  June 

James  I.  to  Anne.  He  visited  Atterbury  in  n,  1728. 
the  Tower,  and  Atterbury  repaid  his  friendship  by 
the  pains  bestowed  on  his  elaborate  epitaph,  which 
forms  a  topic  of  no  less  than  seven  letters  in  the 
Bishop's  exile.*  It  is  inscribed  on  the  cenotaph 
erected  to  the  physician  by  Atterbury's  youthful  ad- 
mirer, the  young  Edward,  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire.^ 

John  Woodward,  who  was  buried  in  the   Nave,  at 
the  head  of  Newton's  gravestone,  within  two  months 
after  Newton's  death,  was,  amidst  all  his  ec-  woodward, 
centricities,  philosophical  and  antiquarian,  the  25!' buried 
founder  of  English  Geology,  and  of  that  Cam-  ^ay  1,1728. 
bridge  chair  which  bears  his  name,  and  has  received 


1  Dr.  Willis,  in  whose  house  his  brother-in-law  Fell  read  the  Liturgy 
under  tlie  Commonwealth,  and  who  prescribed  for  Patrick 
during  the  Plague,  was  buried  in  the  Abbey  in  1675.    (Pat-  igfe.        ' 
rick's   Works,  ix.  443.) 

'■i  Atterbury's  Letters,  iv.  127,  151,  159. 

3  Another  friend  of  Atterbury,  who  died  at  this  time,  and  who  lies 
amongst  the  many  nobles  in  the  Ormond  vault,  is  Charles  Boyle,  Earl 
of  Orrery,  his  pupil  at  Oxford,  and  author  of  the  Dissertation  on 
Phalaris,  which  led  to  the  furious  controversy  with  Bentley. 

*  Atterbury's  Letters,  pp.  127,  149,  185,  186,  198,  217,  258,  260. 

5  By  a  Chapter  Order  of  May  16,  1729  (afterwards  rescinded),  the 
Duchess  of  Buckinghamshire  is  allowed  to  take  down  the  screen  of  the 
sacrarium  to  erect  the  monument. 


78  THE   MONUMENTS 

an  European  illustration  from  the  genius  of  Adam 
Sedgwick ;  and  his  death  was  received  as  a  blow  to 
science  all  over  Europe  —  'the  first  man  of  his  fac- 
ulty,' ^  writes  Atterbury  from  his  French  exile.  Be- 
neath the  monument  of  Woodward  in  the  North  Aisle 
of  the  Nave  lies  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  the  most  eminent 
geologist  of  our  time.  Beside  the  grave  of  Newton 
lies  Sir  John  Herschel,  whose  name,  combined  with 
his  father's,  is  the  most  illustrious  of  our  modern 
astronomers. 

His  rival,  John  Ereind,  interred  at  his  own  seat  at 
„  .  ,         Hitchin,  Hertfordshire,  has  a  monument   on 

Freind.  '  ' 

ms'^bmifd  ^^®  opposite  side.  His  close  connection  with 
at  Hitciiin.  Westmiustcr,  through  his  brother  Eobert,  the 
Headmaster,^  and  through  his  education  there,  may 
have  led  to  the  monument ;  but  it  has  an  intrinsic 
interest  from  his  one  eminence  as  a  physician  and 
scholar,  and  the  vicissitudes  of  his  political  life  — 
imprisoned  in  the  Tower  for  his  intimacy  with  Atter- 
bury ;  released  at  the  promise  of  Walpole,  extorted 
by  his  friend  Dr.  Mead ;  favourite  of  George  II.  and 
Queen  Caroline  —  an  interest  independent  of  any 
accidental  connection  with  the  place.  Samuel  Wes- 
ley's epitaph  says  of  afflicted  Physic  on  this  event, 
'  She  mourns  with  Eadcliffe,  but  she  dies  with 
Freind.' 3  Atterbury  heard  of  his  death  in  France 
with  much  concern :  *  He  is  lamented  by  men  of  all 

1  Atterbury's  Letters,  iv.  244. 

2  He  gave  for  a  theme,  on  the  day  after  his  brother's  imprisonment, 
'  Frater,  ne  desere  fratrem '  (Nichols's  Anecdotes,  v.  86, 102),  and  wrote  the 
epitaph  for  him,  as  for  many  others.     Hence  Pope's  lines  — 

Freind,  for  your  epitaph  I  'in  grieved, 

Where  still  so  much  is  said, 
One  half  will  never  be  believed, 

The  other  never  read. 
8  Nichols,  V.  103. 


OF  THE  MEN  OF   SCIENCE.  79 

parties  at  home,  and  of  all  countries  abroad ;  for  he 
was  known  everywhere,  and  confessed  to  be  at  the 
head  of  his  faculty.'^ 

Pdchard  Mead  is  buried  in  the  Temple  Church,  but 
his  bust  also  is  in  the  ISTave.^  He  was  the  first  of 
that   succession    of   eminent   physicians  who   .,     ,   ^ 

^    ''  Cenotaphs 

have  been  (from  this  example)  sent  forth  %^^^l^  ^g 
from  the  homes  of  Nonconformist  ministers.  ^^^*  = 
His  noble  conduct,  in  refusing  to  prescribe  for  Sir 
E.  Walpole  till  Freind  was  released  from  the  Tower, 
and  in  repaying  him  all  the  fees  of  his  patients ;  his 
fiery  encounter  with  their  joint  adversary,  Woodward, 
in  the  courts  of  Gresham  College ;  his  large  and  lib- 
eral patronage  of  arts  and  sciences,  give  a  peculiar 
charm  to  the  good  physician  who  '  lived  more  in  the 
broad  sunshine  of  life  than  almost  any  man.'^ 

Wetenall  and  Pringle  have  tablets  in  the  South,  and 
Winteringham  in  the  North  Transept.  But  the  main 
succession   of    science    is    carried    on   in    St.      ,  , 

and  of 

Andrew's  Chapel,^  which   contains   busts   of  17I3®."*"' 

Matthew  Baillie,  the  eminent  physician,  the  X^'^f}^' 

brother  of  Joanna,  the  poetess ;  of  Sir  Hum-  hlmam" 

phry  Davy,  the  genius  of  modern  chemistry ;  Davyf dJeT' 

and  of  Dr.  Young,  whose  mathematical  and  i,L*97and' 

hieroglyphical  discoveries  have  outshone  his  ^'°"°S'^^29. 
medical  fame.^     It  is  probably  by  an  accidental  coin- 

1  Atterbury's  Letters,  ii.  320,  384. 

2  Tlie  inscription  was  written  by  Dr.  Ward.     (Nichols,  vi.  216.) 
"*  Boswell's  Johnson,  iv.  222. 

*  Dr.  Buchan,  author  of  'Domestic  Medicine,'  is  buried  in  the  West 
Cloister  (1805). 

°  Dr.  Young's  epitaph  is  by  Hudson  Gurney.  The  projected  bust 
was  a  failure,  hence  the  medallion  is  in  profile.  (Peacock's  Life,  p. 
485.)  The  site  was  fixed  at  the  particular  request  of  Chantrey,  to 
which  the  Dean  (Ireland)  acceded,  '  knowing  from  long  experience 


80  THE   MONUMENTS 

cidence  only  that  tlie  same  corner  contains  the  monu- 
Sarah  mcnt  of  a  benevolent  lady,  Sarah,  Duchess  of 

Duchess  of  Somerset,  daughter  of  Dr.  Alston,  President 
1692.  '  of  the  College  of  Physicians,  who  devoted 
almost  the  whole  of  her  fortune  to  charitable  bequests 
in  Oxford,  Cambridsfe,  Westminster,  and  Wiltshire. 
Hunter,  died  Joliu  Huutcr,  the  Foundcr  of  modern  surgery, 
removed^  '  had  bccu  buricd  in  the  vaults  of  St.  Martin's- 
28,1859.  in-the-Fields  Church.  From  those  vaults, 
just  before  they  were  finally  closed,  his  remains  were 
removed  by  the  energy  of  Mr.  Frank  Buckland.^  Ani- 
mated by  a  chivalrous  devotion  to  the  memory  of  a 
great  man,  he  spent  sixteen  dreary  days  in  the  cata- 
combs of  that  church,  which  ended  in  his  triumphant 
recovery  of  the  relics,  and  his  '  translation '  of  them 
to  the  Nave  of  the  Abbey. 

And  now,  the  latest-born  of  time,  comes  the  prac- 
tical science  of  modern  days.  The  earliest  that  the 
Inventors  ^hbcy  Contains  is  Sir  Ptobert  Moray,  first 
TicfL  sci-  President  of  the  Eoyal  Society,  buried  in  the 
irr^Robert  South  Transept  near  Davenant,  at  the  charge 
ifuried  July  of  Charlcs  II.,  who  through  him  had  made  all 
*'  ^^'^'  his  scientific  communications  :  '  the  life  and 
soul  of  the  Society ; '  Evelyn's  '  dear  and  excellent 
friend,  that  good  man  and  accomplished  gentleman.' ^ 
The  strange  genius  of  Sir  Samuel  Morland  ^  — 
Mori.iiid,       perfidious  secretary  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  more 

died  1696.  ,.      ,  ,      ,  in  •  .  r-   ^i 

creditably  known  as  the  nrst  inventor  ot  the 

how  delicate  and  honourable  his  judgment  is  in  all  matters  relating  to 
the  Abbey.'     (Chapter  Book,  July  23,  1834.) 

1  See  the  interesting  account  in  his  Curiosities  of  Natural  Ilistor;/, 
ii.  160-179. 

2  Burnet's  Otvn  Time,  i.  90;  Evelyn  (who  attended  the  funeral), 
ii.  383. 

8  For  Morland'a  Life,  see  Pepys's  Diary,  and  his  Autobiography. 


OF   THE   MEN  OF   SCIENCE.  81 

speaking-trumpet,  the  fire-engine,  the  calculating  ma- 
chine,   and,   according   to   some,   even   of   the   steam- 
engine  —  has  left  his  mark  in  the  South  Aisle  of  the 
Nave,  by  the  two  singular  tablets  to  his  first  His  wives.^ 
wife,  Carola  Harsnett,  and  his   second   wife,  ^'^;^l^''^^'^^' 
Anne  Fielding,  whom  he  married,  and  buried  ^'^j^H^^  ^g^^ 
in  the  Abbey,  within  the  space  of  ten  years.^  -^^■ 
It  was  before  these  two    tablets  —  which    record   the 
merits  of  Carola  and  Anne,  in  Hebrew,  Greek,  Ethi- 
opic,  and   English  —  that   Addison   paused,  and,  con- 
trasting them  with  the  extraordinary  praises  bestowed 
on  the  dead  in  some  epitaphs,  remarked   that  'there 
were  others  so  excessively  modest,  that  they  deliver 
the  character  of  the  person  departed  in  Greek  T^i^pjon 
and  Hebrew,  and  by  that  means  are  not  un-  25,'m3^°''' 
derstood  once  in  a   twelvemonth.' ^     in   the  fxM^l'v. 
centre  of  the  Nave,  in  the  same  grave,  were  No^^"23!*^ 
laid   the   master   and   apprentice  —  Tompion  ^'^^' 
and    Graham,   the    fathers    of    English   watchmaking. 
The    slab    over    their    grave,   commemorating    'their 
curious   inventions   and    accurate    performances,'   was 
removed  at  the  beginning  of  the  century.     This  change 
called  forth  many  an  indignant  remonstrance  from  the 
humble   but   useful   tribe   who   regarded   this    grave- 
stone  as   their   Caaba.     'Watchmakers,'    says   one   of 
them,  'the   writer   amongst   the   number,    until    pre- 
vented  by   recent   restrictions,   were   in  the  habit  of 
making  frequent  pilgrimages  to  the  sacred  spot :  from 
the  inscription  and  the  place,  they  felt  proud  of  their 
occupation;   and    many   a   secret   wish   to    excel    has 
arisen  while  silently  contemplating  the  silent  resting- 
place  of  the  two  men  whose  memory  they  so  much 

1  Marriage  Register,  1670  and  1676;   Burial  Register,  1674   and 
1679-80.  ^  Spectator,  No.  26. 

YOL.  II.  —6 


82  THE  MONUMENTS 


revered.  Their  memory  may  last,  but  the  slab  is 
gone.'  ^ 

In  the  South  Transept,  perhaps  from  his  sacred 
profession,  beside  the  other  divines,  was  erected  (by 
Hales  died  ^^®  mother  of  George  III.)  the  medallion  of 
imledir^'  Stephen  Hales,  remarkable  as  a  vegetable 
Teddington.  pi^iygiologist  and  as  the  first  contriver  of 
ventilators. 

But  all  these  lesser  representatives  of  practical 
science  shrink  into  insignificance,  both  without  and 
James  Watt,  witliiu   thc    Abbey,   as  its   chief  representa- 

died  Aug.  19,       .  oii  •     j  •    -i         ■        ^^^ 

1819; buried   tivc  Icaps  luli-grown  mto  Sight  in  Lhantreys 

at  Hands-  .  .  ^_ 

worth, near  gigaiitic  statue  01  J amcs  Watt,  the  'Improver 
ham.  of  the  Steam  Engine.'     Of  all  the  monuments 

in  the  Abbey,  perhaps  this  is  the  one  which  provokes 
the  loudest  execrations  from  those  who  look  for  uni- 
formity of  design,  or  congeniality  with  the  ancient  ar- 
chitecture. Well  may  the  pavement  of  the  church 
have  cracked  and  yawned,  as  the  enormous  monster 
moved  into  its  place,  and  'disclosed  to  the  eyes  of 
the  astonished  workmen  rows  upon  rows  of  gilded 
coffins  in  the  vaults  beneath ;  into  which,  but  for  the 
precaution  of  planking  the  area,  workmen  and  work 
must  have  descended,  joining  the  dead  in  the  chamber 
of  death.'  ^     Well  might  the  standard-bearer  of  Agin- 

1  Thompson's  Time  and  Timekeepers,  p.  74.  —  The  passage  was 
pointed  out  to  me  by  a  friend,  in  consequence  of  the  strong  irritation 
expressed  on  the  subject  by  an  obscure  watchmaker  in  a  provincial 
town.  The  gravestone,  happily,  had  not  been  destroyed,  and  was 
restored  in  1866. 

2  Cunningham's  Handbook,  p.  23.  —  It  is  said  that  an  exalted  per- 
sonage, when  visiting  this  Chapel  some  twenty  years  ago,  inquired  how 
the  statue  effected  its  entrance.  No  one  present  was  able  to  answer. 
An  explanation  was  afterwards  given,  that  the  statue  was  sunk  in  a 
passage  tunnelled  under  the  screen,  and  then  lifted  into  its  present 
place.    This,  however,  was  not  the  case.    The  pedestal  was  introduced 


OF  TPIE   MEN  OF   SCIENCE.  83 

court,  and  the  worthies  of  the  Courts  of  Elizabeth  and 
James,  have  started  from  their  tombs  in  St.  Paul's 
Chapel,^  if  they  could  have  seen  this  colossal  cham- 
pion of  a  new  plebeian  art  enter  their  aristocratic 
resting-place,  and  take  up  his  position  in  the  centre 
of  the  little  sanctuary,  regardless  of  all  proportion, 
or  style,  in  the  surrounding  objects.  Yet,  when  we 
consider  what  this  vast  figure  represents,  what  class 
of  interests  before  unknown,  what  revolutions  in  the 
whole  framework  of  modern  society,  equal  to  any  that 
the  Abbey  walls  have  yet  commemorated,  there  is 
surely  a  fitness  even  in  its  very  incongruity;  and  as 
we  read  the  long  laudation  on  the  pedestal,  though 
we  may  not  think  it,  as  its  admirers  call  it,  'beyond 
comparison  the  finest  lapidary  inscription  in  the 
English  language,'  yet,  in  its  vigorous  style  and  scien- 
tific enthusiasm,  it  is  not  unworthy  of  the  omnigenous 
knowledge  of  him  who  wrote  it,^  or  of  the  powerful 
intellect   and   vast   discovery  which  it  is  intended  to 

describe.  Rennell, 

In  the  centre  of  the  N'ave  lie  the  geogra-  6,"is3o.  ^" 
pher   Rennell,    one    of    the    founders    of  the  buried  Sept. 

10   1834, 

African  Society,  Telford,  the  builder  of  bridges,  steiihen'son, 
and  Robert  Stephenson,  who  '  had  ^  during  his  21, 1559. 

in  three  parts  over  the  tomb  of  Lewis  Kobsart,  and  the  statue  was  just 
able  to  force  its  way  through  the  door;  although,  in  anticipation  of  the 
passage  not  being  wide  enough,  permission  had  been  obtained  to  remove 
the  neighbouring  monument  of  Pulteney.  It  was  at  the  moment  of 
crossing  the  threshold  that  the  arch  of  the  vault  beneath  gave  way, 
as  described  above.  These  particulars  were  communicated  to  me  by 
Mr.  Weekes,  who  assisted  Chantrey  in  the  operation,  through  the 
kindness  of  Mr.  Sopwith.  1  Smiles's  Life  of  Watt,  p.  507. 

2  '  It  has  ever  been  reckoned  one  of  the  chief  honours  of  my  life,' 
says  Lord  Brougham,  '  that  I  was  called  upon  to  pen  the  inscription 
upon  the  noble  monument  thus  nobly  reared.' 

3  Smiles's  Engineers,  ii.  481.  Rennell's  monument  is  at  the  north« 
west  corner  of  the  Nave;  Telford's  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Andrew. 


84  THE   MONUMENTS 

life  expressed  a  wish  that  his  body  should  be  laid 
near  that  of  Telford ;  and  the  son  of  the  Killing- 
worth  engineman  thus  sleeps  by  the  side  of  the  son 
of  the  Eskdale  shepherd,'  and  over  their  graves  the 
light  falls  through  the  stained-glass  windows  erected 
in   memorv  of    their   brethren  in  the   same 

Joseph  '' 

^'"■''f'.^A      art  —  Locke   and   Brunei.^     Near  them,  and 

died  IboO. 

Brunei,  died  lil^©  them  raised  by  native  exertions  from 
^^^'■*-  obscurity   to   fame  —  near    also   to    Eennell 

—  is  the  grave  to  which  the  remains  of  David  Liv- 
ingstone were  brought  from  the  lonely  hut  in  which 
he  died  in  Central  Africa.  In  some  respects  it  is  the 
most  remarkable  grave  in  the  Abbey  ;  for  it  was  almost 
needed  to  certify  the  famous  traveller's  death,  so  long 
doubted,  and  so  irresistibly  proved  by  the  examination 
(after  the  arrival  of  the  remains  in  England)  of  the  arm 
fractured  by  the  lion,  and  reset  by  himself.  It  testifies 
also  to  the  marvellous  fidelity  with  which  his  African 
servants  bore  the  bones  of  their  dead  master,  through 
lono-  months  of  toil  and  danger,  to  the  shores  of  Zan- 
zibar.  When  Jacob  Wainwright,  the  negro  boy,  threw 
the  palm  branch  into  the  open  grave,  more  moved 
by  the  sight  of  the  dead  man's  coffin  than  by  the  vast 
assemblage  which,  from  floor  to  clerestory,  crowded  the 
Abbey,  it  was  felt  that  the  Lanarkshire  pioneer  of 
Christian  civilisation,  the  greatest  African  traveller  of 
all  time,  had  not  laboured  altogether  in  vain. 

We  have  now  gone  through  all  the  monuments  and 
graves  that  attach  themselves  to  the  history  of  our 

1  The  window  erected  to  Stephenson  curiously  commemorates  the 
mechanical  contrivances  of  the  world,  from  the  Tower  of  Babel  down 
to  the  railways  ;  that  to  Locke,  the  instances,  in  the  Gospel  History, 
of  working  ou  the  Sabbath ;  that  to  Brunei,  the  building  of  the  Temple. 


OF  THE   NOBILITY.  85 

country.  There  still  remains  the  thin  dark  thread  of 
those  who,  without  historical  or  official  claims,  have 
crept  into  the  Abbey,  often,  we  must  regret  to  private 
think,  from  the  carelessness  of  those  who  had  *^^^"''^*'™t^- 
the  charge  of  it  in  former  times.  The  number  of  those 
who  lie  within  or  close  around  the  Abbey  must  be  not 
less  than  three  thousand.  Goldsmith,  in  his  '  Citizen  of 
the  World,'  has  a  bitter  satire  on  the  guardianship  of 
'  the  sordid  priests,  who  are  guilty,  for  a  superior  re- 
ward, of  taking  down  the  names  of  good  men  to  make 
room  for  others  of  equivocal  character,  or  of  giving  other 
but  true  merit  a  place  in  that  awful  sanctuary.'  ^ 

O  fond  attempt  to  give  a  deathless  lot 
To  names  ignoble,  born  to  be  forgot ! 

Still,  even  amongst  these,  there  are  claims  upon  our 
attention  of  various  kinds,  which  deserve  a  passing 
notice. 

One  class  of  obscure  names  belongs  to  the  less 
distinguished  among  '  the  Nobles,'  who  with  the  Kings 
and  Queens  had  anciently  claimed  interment  ^he 
within  the  Abbey.  Most  of  these  lie,  as  we  ^"^o^'^"^- 
have  seen,  in  the  Ormond  vault,  coffins  upon  coffins, 
piled  under  the  massive  masonry  of  the  Protectorate. 
Others  repose  in  the  same  Chapel  within  the  ducal 
vaults  of  Richmond,  Buckingham,  Monk,  and  Argyle. 
But  amongst  the  special  burial-places  of  the  aristocracy ,2 
three  may  be  selected,  as  belonging  rather  to  the  course 
of  private  than  of  public  history,  yet  still  with  an 
interest  of  their  own. 

1  Goldsmith,  ii.  44.     Compare  Walpole's  Letters,  iii.  427. 

2  In  the  North  Aisle  lies  Almeric  de  Courcy,  descended  from  John 
de  Courcy,  who 'obtained  from  King  John  the  extraordi-  Almeric  de 
nary  privilege  forhimself  and  his  heirs,  of  being  covered  Courcy  ,1719- 
before  the  king.'     (Epitaph.) 


86  THE   MONUMENTS 

In  the  Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas  is  the  vault  in  which, 
owing  to  the  marriage  of  Charles,  the  '  proud  Duke  of 
Somerset,'  with  the  heiress  of  the  Percys,  the  House  of 
Percy  has  from  that  time  been  interred,  under  the  monu- 
ment of  the  ancient  Duchess  of  Somerset,  widow  of  the 
Protector  ;  Charles  and  his  wife  were  buried  in  Salisbury 
Cathedral,  but  their  son  Algernon  was  interred  in  this 
vault ;  and  his  daughter  and  sole  heiress  was 
Percy,  Elizabeth  Percy,   the   first  Duchess  of   Nor- 

Northum-      tliumberlaud,  who  died  on  her  sixtieth  birth- 

berland,  -i       n  c  i  •  i    • 

buried  Dec.    dav,  and  was  the  first  of  her  name  mterred  in 

IS,  1776.  "^ 

the  Percy  vault.  She  was  conspicuous  both 
for  her  extensive  munificence,  and  for  her  patronage  of 
literature,  of  which  the  '  Percy  Reliques  '  are  the  living 
monument.  By  her  own  repeated  desire,  the  funeral 
was  to  be  '  as  private  as  her  rank  would  admit.'  The 
crowd  collected  was,  however,  so  vast  that  the  officiat- 
ing clergy  and  choir  could  scarcely  make  their  way 
from  the  west  door  to  the  chapel.  Just  as  the  pro- 
cession had  passed  St.  Edmund's  Cliapel,  the  whole 
of  the  screen,  including  the  canopy  of  John  of  Eltham's 
tomb,^  came  down  with  a  crash,  which  brought  with  it 
the  men  and  boys  wlio  had  clambered  to  the  top  of 
it  to  see  the  spectacle,  and  severely  wounded  many 
of  those  below.  The  uproar  and  confusion  put  a  stop 
to  the  ceremony  for  two  hours.  The  body  was  left  in 
the  ruined  Chapel,  and  the  Dean  did  not  return  till 
after  midnight,  when  the  funeral  was  completed,  but 
still  amidst  '  cries  of  murder,  raised  by  such  of  the  suf- 
ferers as  had  not  been  removed.'  ^ 

1  See  Chapter  III.  p.  121. 

-  Annual  Register,  xix.  197  ;  Gent.  Mag.  [1776],  p.  576.  This  is  the 
only  private  vault  which  still  continues  to  receive  interments.  Amongst 
those  of  our  own  time  (1864)  may  be  especially  mentioned  the  rebuilder 


OF   THE   NOBILITY.  87 

Another  very  different  race  is  that  of  the  Delavals. 
Of  that  ancient  northern  family,  whose  ancestor  carried 
the  standard  at  Hastings,  two  were  remark-  ^^jj^j^^^j 
able  for  their  own  distinctions  —  Admiral  De-  ^^^l^l^j^^ 
laval  ^  (companion  of  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel)  -^'  ^'^^*^"^- 
and  Edward  Hussey  Delaval,  last  of  the  male  vai,^i8u!'^" 
line,  who  was  the  author   of  various   philo-  Lord  Deia- 
sophical  works,^  and  lies  buried  amongst  the  ^^' 

^  .  ^  Lady  Dela- 

philosophers  in  the  Nave.    But  Lord  and  Lady  ^ai,  nsa. 
Delaval,  with  their  daughter  Lady  Tyrconnell,  b^rough!^" 
and  their  nephew's  wife,  Lady  Mexborough,^  ^*"^' 
are  interred  in  or  close  to  St.  Paul's  Chapel,  where  the 
banners — the  last  vestiges  of  a  once  general  custom  — 
hang  over  their  graves.*     Their  pranks  at  Seaton  Dela- 
val ^  belong  to  the  history  of  Northumberland,  and  of 
the  dissolute  state  of  English  society  at  the  close  of  the 
last  century ;  and  in  the  traditions  of  the  North  still 
survives  the  memory  of  the  pomp  which,  at  Lady  tjt- 

(•11  ■  p  -KT        1  coimell, 

every  stage  or  the  long  journey  from  iN  ortnum-  isoo. 
berland  to  London,  accompanied  the   remains   of  the 
wildest  of  the  race  —  Lady  Tyrconnell.^ 

Another  trace  of  the  strange  romances  of  the  North 
of   Eno-land   is   the   grave  of   Mary  Eleanor  MaryEiea. 

^  '-'  •'  nor  Bowes, 

Bowes,  Countess  of  Strathmore,  who,  a  few  countess  of 

Stiathniore, 

months  before  the  funeral  (just  described)  of  g's*^''^;^,!;!;!! 
her  neighbour  Lady  Tyrconnell,'  was  buried  Mayio.isoo. 
in   the    South   Transept,  in  the  last  year  of  the  past 

of  Alnwick,  distinguished   by  a  princely  munificence  worthy  of  his 
ancestors.  ^  Charnock's  Naval  Biog.  ii.  10. 

2  Gent.  ^^a(J.  1814,  pt.  ii.  p.  293. 

3  Another  reason  has  been  sometimes  assigned  for  the  position  of 
Lady  Mexborough's  monument ;  but  this  family  connection  is,  perhaps, 
sufficient.  *  Neale,  ii.  181. 

5  Howitt's  Visits  to  Remarkable  Places  (2nd  series),  pp.  354-374. 

6  Begister,  November  4,  1800.  '  Howitt,  p.  198. 


88  THE   MONUMENTS 

century,  after  adventures  which  ought  to  belong  to  the 
Middle  Ages. 

It  is  touching  to  observe  how  many  are  commemo- 
rated from  their  extreme  youth.  Not  only,  as  in  the 
case  of  eminent  persons  —  like  Purcell,  or  Francis 
Monuments  Homcr,  or  Charlcs  Bullcr,  where  the  Abbey 
voJng!  commemorates  the  promise  of  glories  not  yet 
fully  developed  —  but  in  the  humbler  classes  of  life, 
the  sigh  over  the  premature  loss  is  petrified  into  stone, 
and  affects  the  more  deeply  from  the  great  events 
Jane  Lister,  amidst  wMch  it  is  enshrined.  'Jane  Lister, 
1^88.°''- ''  dear  child,  died  October  7,  1688.'  '  Her 
brother  Michael  had  already  died  in  1676,  and  been 
buried  at  Helen's  Church,  York.'  i  In  that  eventful 
year  of  the  Eevolution,  when  Church  and  State  were 
reeling  to  their  foundations,  this  '  dear  child '  found  her 
Nicholas  quiet  resting-place  in  the  Eastern  Cloister.  In 
^'lli'two  t^^^  ^'^^^^^  y^^^'  ^°°'  ^  ^®^  months  before, 
fed  March  auothcr  still  more  insignificant  life  —  Nicho- 
liarchf  las  Bagnall,  '  an  infant  of  two  months  old,^ 
1687-8.  i^y  i^ig  nurse  unfortunately  overlaid '  —  has 
his  own  little  urn  amongst  the  Cecils  and  Percys  in  St. 
Nicholas's  Chapel.^ 

1  This  seems  to  show  that  her  father  must  have  hcen  Dr.  Lister, 
author  of  a 'Journey  to  Paris,'  and  other  works  on  Natural  History, 
who  came  from  Yorii  to  Loudon  in  1683.  He  is  buried  at  Clapham, 
with  his  first  wife,  who  is  there  described  as  his  '  dear  wife.'  There  is 
no  Register  in  St.  Helen's  at  York  between  1649  and  1690. 

2  He  was  buried  with  an  infant  brother  (September  .5,  1684)  in  the 
grave  which  afterwards  received  his  mother,  Lady  Anne  Charlotte 
Bat^mall,  daughter  of  the  second  Earl  of  Elgin  (March  1.3,  1712-1.3), 
wife  of  Nicholas  Bagnall,  of  Plas  Newydd,  in  Wajps.  It  would  seem 
that  the  unhappy  nurse  never  forgot  the  misfortune,  and  in  her  will 
begged  to  be  buried  near  the  child.     (Che.ster's  Registfrs,  220.) 

Anna  Sophia        ^  Close  by  is  the  urn  of  the  infant  daughter  of  Harley, 
Harley,1695.  French  Ambassador  to  James  II. 


OF  PRIVATE  PERSONS.  89 

In  the  Little  Cloisters  is  a  tablet  to  '  ]\Ir.  Thomas 
Smith,  of  Elmly  Lovet  .  .  .  who  through  the  spotted 
veil  of   the  small-pox  rendered   a  pure  and  Thomas 
unspotted  soul  to  God,  expecting  but  not  fear-  f"' M'-.v^.f'* 
ing  death.'  ^     Young  Carteret,  a  Westminster  caVtereV' 
scholar,  who  died  at  the  age  of  19,  and  is  ^fl^A, 
buried  in  the  North  Aisle  of  the  Choir,  with  ^'^^' 
the  chiefs  of  his  house,  is  touchingly  commemorated  by 
the  pretty  Sapphic  verses  of  Dr.  Freind.^ 

In  the  Nave  several    young  midshipmen  are  com- 
memorated.    Amongst  them  is  William  Dal- 
rymple,  who  at  the  age  of  18  was  killed  in  a  DahTinpie. 
desperate  engagement  off  the  coast  of  Virginia, 
'leaving  to  his  once  happy  parents  the  endearing  re- 
membrance of  his  virtues.' 

Other  tombs  represent  the  intensity  of  the  mourn- 
ers' grief.     In  St.  Andrew's  Chapel,  Lord  Kerry's  mon- 
ument to  his  wife,  '  who  had  rendered  him  for  „ 
thirty-one   years   the   happiest   of    mankind,'  H^''^^^''' 
retained  at  its  north  end,  till  a  few  months  Lady  Kerry 
before  his  own  interment  in  the  same  tomb,  loJI^i  gerry 
the  cushion  on  which,  year  after  year,  he  came  ^^^^' 
to  kneel.^     Opposite  to  it  is  the  once  admired  ^  monu- 

1  There  was  a  like  monument  in  the  North  Cloister  to  R.  Booker,  a 
Westminster  scholar,  who  died  of  small-pox  in  1655.  (Seymour's 
Stow,  p.  582.) 

2  It  was  probably  from  a  feeling  of  this  kind  that  a  splendid  thoufrh 
private  funeral  was  awarded  in  Poets'  Corner  to  Lieutenant  Riddell, 
who  in  1783  was  killed  iu  a  duel.     {Gent.  Mag.  1783,362-443.) 

8  Akcrmanu,  ii.  189. 

*  'Mrs.  Nightingale's  monument  has  not  been  praised  beyond  its 
merit.  The  attitude  and  expression  of  the  hu.sband  in  endeavouring  to 
shield  his  wife  from  the  dart  of  Death  is  natural  and  affecting.  But  I 
always  thought  that  the  image  of  Death  would  be  much  better  repre- 
sented with  an  extinguished  torch  than  with  a  dart.'  (Burke  on  his 
first  visit  to  the  Abbey:  Prior's  Burke,  32.)  'I  once  more  took  a 
serious  walk  through  the  tombs  of  Westminster  Abbey.    What  heapti 


90  THE   MONUMENTS 

ment  raised  by  her  son  to  commemorate  the  premature 
Lad  •  death  of  Lady  Ehzabeth  Shirley/  daughter  of 

Nightingale  Washington,  Earl  Ferrers,  wife  of  Joseph 
^^^^-  Gascoigne   Nightingale,   and   sister   of    Lady 

Selina,  Countess  of  Huntingdon,^  foundress  of  the 
Calvinistic  sect  which  bears  her  name.  This  spot 
(apart  from  her  grave  in  the  area  beneath  Queen 
Eleanor's  tomb)  was  doubtless  selected  as  affording 
better  light  and  space ;  and  in  order  to  accommodate 
the  monument,  the  effigy  of  Lady  Catherine  St.  John 
,,  ,     was  removed  to  the  Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas, 

erected  1758  ij-j-^g  husbaud  vaiuly  trying  to  scare  the  spectre 
of  Death  from  his  wife  is  probably  one  of  the  most 
often  remembered  sights  of  the  Abbey.  It  was  when 
working  at  this  elaborate  structure  that  Eoubiliac  made 
the  exclamation  (already  quoted)  on  the  figure  in  the 
neighbouring  tomb  of  Sir  Francis  Vere.^  It  was  also 
whilst  engaged  on  the  figure  of  Death,  that  he  one  day, 
at  dinner,  suddenly  dropped  his  knife  and  fork  on  his 
plate,  fell  back  in  his  chair,  and  then  darted  forwards, 
and  threw  his  features  into  the  strongest  possible  ex- 
pression of  fear  —  fixing  his  eyes  so  expressively  on  the 

of  unmeaning  stone  and  marl)le !  But  there  was  one  tomb  which  sliowed 
common  sense  :  that  beautiful  figure  of  Mr.  Nightiugale  endeavouring  to 
shield  his  lovely  wife  from  Death.  Here,  indeed,  the  marble  seems  to 
speak,  and  the  statues  appear  only  not  alive.'  (Wesley's  Journal,  Feb. 
16,  1764.) 

1  It  was  really  a  monument  to  Mr.  Nightingale.  (See  Chapter 
Book,  February  1.3,  1758.)  His  wife  was  aged  27,  he  56.  For  a  curious 
story  connected  with  Lord  Broughaiu's  father  and  the  digging  of  her 
grave,  see  Lord  Brougham's  Memoirs,  i.  205.  But  she  dieil  eleven  years 
before  his  birth. 

2  Two  of  her  sons  are  buried  in  the  North  Transept,  where  a  monu- 
ment was  to  have  been  erected  to  them.  (Chapter  Book,  March  3, 
174.3-44.) 

3  Or  at  the  north  west  corner  of  Lord  Norris's  mouument.  (Smith's 
Life  of  NoUekens,  ii.  86.)     iSee  p.  27. 


THK    NIGHTINGALE   MONUMENT. 


OF  PRIVATE  PERSONS.  91 

country  lad  who  waited,  as  to  fill  liim  with  astonish- 
ment. '  A  tradition  of  the  Abbey  records  that  a  robber, 
coming  into  the  church  by  moonlight,  was  so  startled  by 
the  same  figure  as  to  have  fled  in  dismay,  and  left  his 
crowbar  on  the  pavement.^ 

Other  monuments  record  the  undying  friendship,  or 
family  a  flection,  which  congregated  round  some  loved 
object.  Such  are  Mary  Kendall's  tomb  in  St.  jion.-ments 
Paul's  Chapel,  and  the  tombs  of  the  Gethin,^  "^  f^"^^'^^- 
Norton,  and  Freke  families  in  the  South  Aisle  Sail. 
of  the  Choir.  Such  is  the  monument  which,  ^."^t'e*^' 
in  the  East  Cloister,  records  Pope's  friendship  ^'""°'  ^^^^• 
with  General  Withers  and  Colonel  Disney  (commonly 
called  Duke  Disney),  who  resided  together  at  Greenwich. 
Gay,  in  his  poem  on  Pope's  imaginary  return  from 
Greece,  thus  describes  them  :  — 

Now  pass  we  Gravesend  with  a  friendly  wind, 

And  Tilbury's  white  fort,  and  long  Blackwall; 
Greenwich,  where  dwells  the  friend  of  human  kind 

More  visited  than  either  park  or  hall, 
Withers  the  good,  and  (with  him  ever  joined) 

Facetious  Disney,  greet  thee  first  of  all. 
I  see  his  chimney  smoke,  and  hear  him  say, 

Duke !  that 's  the  room  for  Pope,  and  that  for  Gay.^ 

Pope's  epitaph  carries  on  the  same  strain  after  Withers's 

death :  — 

Here,  Withers,  rest !  thou  bravest,  gentlest  mind,  -withers. 
Thy  country's  friend,  but  more  of  human  kind,      '^''^d  ^'^-^^ 

1  The  crowbar,  which  was  fouud  uuder  the  monument,  is  still  pre- 
served. 

2  For  Grace  Gethin  see  Ballard's  Illustrious  Ladies,  p.  263  ;  and 
D'Israeli's  Curiosities  of  Literature.  —  She  left  a  bequest  for  an  anni- 
versary sermon  to  be  preached  for  her  iu  the  Abbey  every  Ash- 
Weduesday.  Her  celebrity  arose,  in  part,  from  a  book  of  extracts 
which  were  mistakenly  supposed  to  be  original.  She  is  buried  at  Hol- 
lingbourne,  near  Maidstone,  where  her  epitaph  records  a  vision  shortly 
before  her  death.  ^  Pope's  Works,  iii.  375 


92  THE   MONUMENTS 

O  born  to  arms !  O  worth  in  youth  approv'dl 
O  soft  humanity,  in  age  belov'd ! 
For  thee  the  hardy  vet'ran  drops  a  tear, 
And  the  gay  courtier  feels  the  sigh  sincere. 

Withers,  adieu  !  yet  not  with  thee  remove 
Thy  martial  spirit,  or  thy  social  love ! 
Amidst  corruption,  luxury,  and  rage, 
Still  leave  some  ancient  virtues  to  our  age : 
Nor  let  us  say  (those  English  glories  gone), 
The  last  true  Briton  lies  beneath  this  stone  !  ^ 

And  '  Duke  Disney '  closes  the  story  in  the  touching 
Disney,  died  ^^cord,  that  '  Colouel  Henry  Disney,  surviving 
^^^^-  his  friend  and  companion,  Lieutenant-General 

Withers,  but  two  years  and  ten  days,  is  at  his  desire 
buried  in  the  same  grave  with  him.' 

Others  have  gained  entrance  by  their  longevity. 
MoNUMKNTs  There  are  three  whose  lives  embrace  three 
gev^?"y!  whole  epics  of  English  History.  The  epitaph 
Anne  o^  Annc  Birkhcad  (now  effaced)  in  the  Clois- 

aged'102!'  ters,  seen  by  Camden  when  it  was  still  a  fresh 
^^^^'  wonder,  recorded  that  she  died  on  August  25, 

1568,  at  the  age  of  102  — 

An  auncient  age  of  many  years 

Here  lived,  Anne,  thou  hast. 
Pale  death  hath  fixed  his  fatal  force 

Upon  thy  corpse  at  last. 

In  the  centre  of  the  South  Transept,  amongst  the  poets, 
Thomas  by  a  not  unnatural  affinity,  was  buried  Thomas 
152,  less.  Parr,  the  patriarch  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
*  the  old,  old,  very  old  man,'  on  whose  gravestone  it  is 
recorded  that  he  lived  to  the  age  of  152,  through  the 
ten  reigns  from  Edward  IV.  to  Charles  I.  He  was 
brought   up   to   Westminster,  two  months   before  his 

1  Pope's  Works,  iii.  375. 


OF  FOREIGNERS.  93 

death,  by  the  Earl  of  Arundel,  'a  great  lover  of  an- 
tiquities.' '  He  was  found  on  his  death  to  be  covered 
with  hair.'  Many  were  present  at  his  burial,  'doing- 
homage  to  this  our  aged  Thomas  de  Tcmporibus:^  In 
the  West  Cloister  lies  Elizabeth  Woodfall,  daughter  of 
the  famous  printer,  who  carried  on  the  remem-  Eu^abeth 
brance  of  Junius  to  our  own  time,  when  she  ^ged  gt,"' 
died  in  Dean's  Yard  at  the  age  of  93.  '^^^• 

Connected  with  these  by  a  curious  coincidence  of 
long    life   are   several    illustrious    foreigners,  monuments 

''  T        /^       1  t'       1         o*"  FoREir.N- 

Casaubon,    St.    Evremond,    Grabe,    and    the  eks. 
Duke  of  Montpensier,  have  been  already  mentioned. 

But  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Paul,  with  his  wife  and 
daughter  near  him,  lies  Ezekiel  Spanheim,  a  Genevese 
bv  birth,  but  student  at  Leyden  and  professor  spanheim, 

-..i.-T-iii-r.  aged  80, 

at  Heidelberg,  who  died  m  England,  as  Frus-  mo. 
sian  minister,  in  his  eighty-first  year  —  the  Bunsen  of 
his  time,  uniting  German  research  into  scholarship  and 
theology  with  the  labours  of  his  diplomatic  profession. 

Peter  Courayer,  the  Blanco  White  of  the  eighteenth 
century  —  endeared  to  the  English  Church,  and  es- 
transed  from  the  Pioman  Church,  by  his  vin-  comayer, 

"  aged  95, 

dication,  whilst  yet  at  the  Sorbonne,  of  the  n-e. 
validity  of  Anglican  Orders  —  had  been  already,  before 
his  escape  from  France,  attached  to  the  Precincts  of 
Westminster  by  his  friendship  with  the  exiled  Atter- 
bury,2  who  had  hanging  in  his  room  a  portrait  of 
Courayer,  which  he  bequeathed  to  the  University  of 
Oxford.  He  lived  and  died  in  Downing  Street,  in  close 
intimacy  with  Dr.  Bell,  one  of  the  Prebendaries,  chap- 
lain to  the  Princess  Amelia.     Dr.  Bell  afterwards  pub- 

1  Fuller's  Worthies,  p.  68.  For  the  doubt  as  to  his  age,  see  Mr 
Thorns  on  the  Longevity  of  Man,  pp.  85-94. 

2  See  Atterbury's  Letters,  iv.  97,  103,  133. 


94  THE   MONUMENTS 

lished  Courayer's  '  Last  Sentiments,'  which  were  of  the 
extremest  latitude  in  theology ;  and  by  him  Courayer 
was,  at  his  own  request,  buried,  in  his  ninety-fifth  year, 
in  the  Southern  Cloister.  His  epitaph,  by  his  friend 
Kynaston,  of  Brasenose  College,  Oxford,  was  put  up 
too  hastily  before  the  author's  last  revisal.^ 

In  the  Chapel  of  St.  Andrew,  close  to  the  Nightin- 
gale monument,  lies  '  Theodore  Phaliologus.'  ^  There 
Theodore  ^^^  ^®  little  doubt  that  he  is  the  eldest  of 
buHed^May  ^^^  ^^^  children  of  '  Theodoro  Paleologus,  of 
3, 1644.  Pesaro,  in  Italye,  descended  from  the  imperial 
lyne  of  the  last  Christian  Emperors  of  Greece;  being 
the  Sonne  of  Camilio,  the  sonne  of  Prosper,  the  sonne 
of  Theodoro,  the  sonne  of  John,  the  sonne  of  Thomas, 
second  brother  of  Constantine  Paleologus,  the  eighth 
of  that  name,  and  last  of  that  lyne  that  rayned  in  Con- 
stantinople until  subdued  by  the  Turks :  who  married 
with  Mary,  the  daughter  of  William  Balls,  of  Hadlye, 
in  Souffolke,  Gent.,  and  had  issue  five  children  —  Theo- 
doro, John,  Ferdinando,  Maria,  and  Dorothy  —  and  de- 
parted this  life  at  Clyfton,  the  21st  of  January  1636.' '^ 

1  A  correct  copy  is  given  in  Nichols's  Boicyer,  p.  545. 

'^  '  Theodore  Phaliologus,  buried  near  the  Lady  St.  John's  tomb, 
May  3,  1644.'  (Register.)  For  the  removal  of  Lady  St.  John's  tomb, 
see  p.  184. 

8  From  a  brass  tablet,  with  the  Imperial  eagle  at  the  top,  in  the 
parish  church  of  Landulph  in  Cornwall,  the  feet  resting  on  the  two 
gates  of  Rome  and  Constantinople.  (Gent.  Maij.  [1775],  p.  80;  1793, 
p.  716;  Arch,  xviii.  83;  Some  Notices  of  Landulph  Church,  by  the  Rec- 
tor, 1841,  pp.  24-26.)  This  curious  pedigree  was  pointed  out  to  me  by 
Mr.  Edmund  Ffoulkes.  Ferdinando  must  be  the  emigrant  to  Barba- 
does,  of  whom  a  very  interesting  account  appears  in  (lent.  Mag.  1843, 
pt.  ii.  p.  28.  The  Greeks,  in  their  War  of  Independence,  are  said  to 
have  sent  to  enquire  whether  any  of  the  family  remained  ;  offering,  if 
such  were  the  case,  to  equip  a  ship  and  proclaim  him  for  their  lawful 
sovereign.  He  had  a  son  '  Theodorus '  who  is  probably  the  same  as 
Theodore  Paleology,  a  mariner,  whose  will  was  signed  August  1, 1693, 


OF  FOREIGNERS.  95 

There  is  a  letter  from  liim  at  Plymouth  in  French, 
addressed  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  on  March  19, 
1628-29,  asking  for  employment  and  appealing  to  his 
noble  birth.i  jje  was  lieutenant  in  Lord  St.  John's  ^ 
regiment,  and  was  probably  on  that  account  buried 
close  to  Lady  St.  John's  tomb. 

In  the  South  Aisle  of  the  Nave  is  a  tablet  to  Sir 
John    Chardin,   the   famous    explorer   of   Persia,  who, 
though  born  in  France,  and  writing  in  French,  gi^j^hn 
ultimately   settled  in   England,  and  died  at  bS^'at 
Chiswick.3     jt  contains  his  name  and  a  motto  lyir""^* 
fit  for  all  great   travellers,  Nomm  sihi  fecit  Paoii,  died_ 
eundo.     Pascal  Paoli,  the  champion  of  Corsi-  buried  a^'' 
can  independence,  died  in  his  eighty-second 
year,  under  the  protection  of  England.    His  bust,  which 
looks  from  the  Southern  Aisle  towards  Poet's  Corner, 
was  erected  not  merely  from  the  general   esteem   in 
which  he  was  held,  but  from  his  close  connection  with 
the  whole  Johnsonian  circle,  of  whom  he  was  the  fa- 
vourite.    'General  PaoU  had  the  loftiest  port  of  any 
man  I  have  ever  seen.'*     He  was  buried  in  the  old 
Koman  Catholic  cemetery  at  St.  Pancras,  from  which, 
in  1867,  his  remains  were  removed  to  Corsica. 

and  proved  in  the  Prerogative  Court  of  Canterbury,  March  9,  1694. 
The  only  information  which  it  gives  respecting  his  family,  is  that  he 
left  as  his  executrix  his  widow  Martha.  The  conjecture  in  Archceologia 
(xviii.  9.3),  that  this  sailor  was  the  son  of  the  Paleologus  buried  in 
Cornwall,  is  therefore  unfounded.  It  is  said  that  a  member  of  the 
family  is  still  living.  For  further  particulars,  see  Notes  and  Queries, 
3rd  series,  vii.  pp.  403,  586 ;  xii.  p.  30. 

1  Calendars  of  State  Papers,  Domestic  Times,  vol.  xcvi.  No.  47  (see 
Life  of  Constantine  R/iodocanakis,  by  Prince  Rhodocanakis,  p.  38). 

2  Army  List  of  Roundheads  and  Cavaliers.    I  owe  this  identification 
to  Colonel  Chester. 

3  His  son  and  heir,  Sir  John  Chardin,  created  a  baronet,  was  buried 
near  his  father's  monument,  1755. 

*  BosweU's  Johnson,  ii.  83. 


9g  THE  MONTJMENTS 

111  the  East  Cloister  is  a  tablet  erected  to  a  young 
Bernese  noble  of  the  name  of  Steigerr,  the  remembrance 
steigerr,  of  whosc  promising  character  still  Hngers  in 
28,''i772°'''  the  Canton  of  Berne.  In  the  North  Transept, 
under  the  monument  of  Holies,  Duke  of  Newcastle,  are 
interred  three  remarkable  persons,  transferred  in  1739- 
Duras,  40  from  the  French  church  in  the  Savoy  — 
Feversham,  Loiiis  Duras,  Earl  of  Feversham,  nephew  of 
diedA^mi      rp^^g^^g^  c^j^Q  Yiad  learned   from  his  uncle 

Bourbon,^  how  to  devastate,  though   not  how  to  con- 

1732-3!'  ■  "'  quer ! '  ^  and  Armand  de  Bourbon,  with  his 

Bourbon!  "  sistcr   Charlotte,  who   died   at  an   advanced 

i5!i732;'  age,'-^   having    come   to   England    before    the 

thTAbbey,  Revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  when  he 

March  21 

1739-40.  '  pleaded  the  cause  of  the  Camisards  to  Queen 
Anne,  and  meditated  an  invasion  of  France,  with  the 
view  of  assisting  the  insurrection  in  the  Cevonnes. 
His  brother  Louis,  Marquis  de  la  Caye,  was  killed 
amongst  the  Huguenot  regiments  at  the  Battle  of  the 
Boyne.^ 

1  Macaulay,  ii.  195. 

2  La  France  Protestante,  De  Haag,  ii.  478,  which  gives  the  age  of 
Armand  as  77  (and  the  date  of  his  death  February  25,  1732),  and  that 
of  Charlotte  as  74.  I  owe  this  information  to  the  kindness  of  M.  Jules 
Bonnet. 

8  Note  from  Burial  Eegister,  1739-40,  now  inscribed  on  the 
grave.  —  'Louis  de  Duras,  Earl  of  Feversham,  etc.,  died  April  8,  1709, 
in  the  sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age. 

'  Cy  gist  tres  haut  et  tr^s  puissant  Seigneur,  Monseigneur  Armand 
de  Bourbon,  Marquis  de  Miremont,  etc.,  a  qui  Dieu  a  fait  la  grace  de 
faire  naitre  en  sa  sainte  Religion  Rc'forme'e  et  d'y  persevcrer  malgre 
les  grandes  promesses  de  Louis  mesme  dans  sa  plus  tendre  jeunesse : 
n6  dans  le  Chatteau  de  la  Gate  en  Languedoc  le  12  juillet  1656,  de'ce'de' 
en  Angleterre  le  12  fevr.  1732.'  [He  was  buried  in  the  French  church 
of  the  Savoy,  February  22,  1732-33.] 

'  Cy  gist  Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  a  qui  Dieu  a  fait  la  grace  de  naitre, 
de  vivre  et  de  mourir  dans  sa  sainte  Religion,  la  gloire  en  soit  a 
jamais  rendue  k  la  ste.  be'nite  et  adorable  Trinitd,  —  Pere,  Fils  et 


Monuments 


OF  SERVANTS.  97 

One  other  'translation'  must   be   noticed.     In  the 
North  Cloister  lie  the  supposed  remains  of   William 
Lyndwood,  the  celebrated  Canonist  and  Eitu-  ^.^^^ood, 
alist  Bishop  of  St.  David's,  which  were  found  ^Ifi^^^^*: 
on  January  16,  1852,  in  St.  Stephen's  Chapel,  5^:;;°ht 
in  the  Palace  of  Westminster,  where  he  was 
consecrated  in  1442,  'in  a  roughly-formed  cavity,  cut 
into  the  foundation-wall  of  the  north  side  of  the  Crypt, 
beneath  the  stone  seat  in  the  easternmost  window.' 

Lastly,  the  Cloisters,^  long  after  the  Abbey  had  been 
closed  against  them,  became  the  general  receptacle  of 
the  humbler  ofhcers  and  retainers  of  the  Court 
and  of  the  Chapter.  Contrasted  with  the  o^^^^«- 
reticence  of  modern  times  on  faithful  services, 
which  live  only  in  the  grateful  memory  of  those  who 
profit  by  them,  three  records  attract  special  notice. 
One  is  of  the  blind  scholar,  Ambrose  Fisher,  ^mhrose 
who  after  having,  first  at  Cambridge,  and  then  *''^''">  ^^^^• 
at  Westminster  (where  he  lived  in  the  house  of  Doctor 
Grant,  one  of  the  Prebendaries),  '  freely,  unrestrainedly, 
cheerfully  imparted  his  knowledge,  whether  in  philos- 
ophy or  divinity,  to  many  young  scholars,' — was 
buried  near  the  library. 

St.-Esprit.  Amen,  dece'tlee  en  Angleterre  le  14  octobre  1732,  age'e 
(le  73  ans.'  She  was  buried  in  the  French  church  of  the  Savoy,  Octo- 
ber 21,  1732. 

'  And  the  bodies  of  the  said  Earl  of  Feversham,  Monsieur  Armand 
de  Bourbon,  and  Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  being  deposited  in  a  vault  in 
the  Chapel  in  the  Savoy,  were  taken  up  and  interred,  on  the  21st  day 
of  March,  1739,  in  one  grave  in  the  North  Cross  of  the  Abbey,  even 
with  the  North  Corner,  and  touching  the  plinth  of  the  iron  rails  of  the 
monument  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Newcastle,  3  ft.  0  in.  deep.' 

1  Sir  R.  Coxe,  Taster  to  Elizabeth  and  James  I.,  has  a  tablet  in 
the  South  Transept  (Stone  was  paid  £30  for  it.     Walpole's  Sir  R.  Coxe, 
Anecdotes) ;    Clement    Saunders,   Carver  to   Charles    II.,  If^f^ders, 
James  II.,  and  William  III.,  in  the  North  Transept.  1696. 

VOL.  II.  —  7 


98  THE  MONUMENTS: 

Nunc  est  positus  mutam  prope  Bibliotliecam, 

Ipse  loquens  quoniam  bibliotheca  f  uit. 

So  wrote  Ayton.  Another  poet  and  scholar  of  West- 
minster, entermg  into  the  general  sentiment  of  the 
Cloisters,  wrote  — 

Men,  women,  children,  all  that  pass  this  way, 
Whether  such  as  here  walk,  or  talk,  or  play, 
Take  notice  of  the  holy  ground  y'  are  on. 
Lest  you  profane  it  with  oblivion  : 
Remember  with  due  sorrow  that  here  lies 
The  learned  Fisher,  he  whose  darkened  eyes. 
Gave  light  which  as  the  midday  circulates 
To  either  sex,  each  age,  and  all  estates.^ 

Another  is  that  of  the  servant  of  one  of  the  Preben- 
daries, full  of  the  quaint  conceits  of  the  seventeenth 
century : — 

"With  diligence  and  trust  most  exemplary, 
1621.       '    Did  William  Lawrence  serve  a  Prebendary  ; 
And  for  his  paines  now  past,  before  not  lost, 
Gain'd  this  remembrance  at  his  master's  cost. 
O  read  these  lines  againe  :  you  seldome  find 
A  servant  faithful,  and  a  master  kind. 
Short-hand  he  wrote :  his  flowre  in  prime  did  fade, 
And  hasty  Death  short-hand  of  him  hath  made. 
Well  covth  he  numbers,  and  well  mesur'd  land ; 
Thus  doth  he  now  that  ground  whereon  you  stand, 
Wherein  he  lyes  so  geometricall : 
Art  maketh  some,  but  thus  will  nature  all. 

A  third  is  that  of  John  Broughton,  one  of  the  Yeomen 
of  the  Guard.  He  was  a  man  of  gigantic  strength,  and 
Brou-hton  "^  ^^^^  jouth  fumished  the  model  of  the 
1789.°  '  ^j-n^g  of  Rysbrack's  'Hercules.'  He  was  the 
'Prince  of  Prizefighters'  in  his  time,  and  after  his  name 

1  Grant's  preface  to  Fisher's  defence  of  the  Liturgy :  Epitaphs  hy 
Ayton  and  Harris. 


THEIR   GROWTH.  99 

on  the  gravestone  is  a  space,  which  was  to  have  been 
filled  up  with  the  words  '  Champion  of  England.' ^  The 
Dean  objected,  and  the  blank  remains. 


It  is  natural  to  conclude  this  survey  of  the  monu- 
mental   structure    of    the    Abbey    with    the  condusiou 
reHections  of  Addison  :  —  '^'"'^y- 

When  I  am  in  a  serious  humour,  I  very  often  walk  by 
myself  in  Westminster  Abbey  ;  where  the  gloominess  of  the 
place,  and  the  use  to  which  it  is  applied,  with  the  solemnity 
of  the  building,  and  the  condition  of  the  people  who  lie  in 
it,  are  apt  to  till  the  mind  with  a  kind  of  melancholy,  or 
rather  thoughtfulness,  that  is  not  disagreeable.  ...  I  know 
that  entertainments  of  this  nature  are  apt  to  raise  dark  and 
dismal  thoughts  in  timorous  minds  and  gloomy  imaginations  ; 
but  for  my  own  part,  though  I  am  always  serious,  I  do  not 
know  what  it  is  to  be  melancholy  ;  and  can  therefore  take  a 
view  of  nature,  in  her  deep  and  solemn  scenes,  with  the 
same  pleasure  as  in  her  most  gay  and  delightful  ones.  By 
this  means  I  can  improve  myself  with  those  objects  which 
others  consider  with  terror.  When  I  look  upon  the  tombs 
of  the  great,  every  emotion  of  envy  dies  in  me ;  when  I  read 
the  epitaphs  of  the  beautiful,  every  inordinate  desire  goes 
out ;  when  I  meet  with  the  grief  of  parents  upon  a  tomb- 
stone, my  heart  melts  with  compassion ;  when  I  see  the 
tomb  of  the  parents  themselves,  I  consider  the  vanity  of 
grieving  for  those  whom  we  must  quickly  follow ;  when  I 
see  kings  lying  by  those  who  deposed  them,  when  I  consider 
rival  wits  placed  side  by  side,  or  the  holy  men  that  divided 
the  world  with  their  contests  and  disputes,  I  reflect  with 
sorrow  and  astonishment  on  the  little  competitions,  factions, 

1  These  facts  were  communicated  to  the  master-mason  of  the  Abbey 
(Mr.  Poole)  by  Broughton's  son-in-law. 


100  THE   MONUMENTS: 

and  debates  of  mankind.  When  I  read  the  several  dates  of 
the  tombs,  of  some  that  died  yesterday,  and  some  six  hun- 
dred years  ago,  I  consider  that  great  day  when  we  shall  all  of 
us  be  contemporaries,  and  make  our  appearance  together,  i 

Our  purpose  has  been  somewhat  different,  though 
converging  to  tlie  same  end.  We  have  seen  how,  by  a 
Gradual  gradual  but  certain  instinct,  the  main  groups 
theTnorm-  ^^ve  fomied  thcmselvcs  round  particular  cen- 
meiits.  ^j.gg  ^j  death :  how  the  Kings  ranged  them- 
selves round  the  Confessor;  how  the  Prince  and 
Courtiers  clung  to  the  skirts  of  the  Kings ;  how  out  of 
the  graves  of  the  Courtiers  were  developed  the  graves 
of  the  Heroes ;  how  Chatham  became  the  centre  of  the 
Statesmen,  Chaucer  of  the  Poets,  Purcell  of  the  Musi- 
cians, Casaubon  of  the  Scholars,  Newton  of  the  Men  of 
Science :  how,  even  in  the  exceptional  details,  natural 
affinities  may  be  traced;  how  Addison  was  buried 
apart  from  his  brethren  in  letters,  in  the  royal  shades 
of  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  because  he  clung  to  the  vault 
of  his  own  loved  Montague ;  how  Ussher  lay  beside  his 
earliest  instructor.  Sir  James  Fullerton,  and  Garrick 
at  the  foot  of  Shakspeare,  and  Spelman  opposite  his 
revered  Camden,  and  South  close  to  his  master  Busby, 
and  Stephenson  to  his  fellow-craftsman  Telford,  and 
Grattan  to  his  hero  Pox,  and  Macaulay  beneath  the 
statue  of  his  favourite  Addison. 

These  special  attractions  towards  particular  graves 
and  monuments  may  interfere  with  the  general  uni- 
formity of  the  Abbey,  but  they  make  us  feel  that  it 
is  not  a  mere  dead  museum,  that  its  cold  stones  are 
warmed  with  the  life-blood  of  human  affections  and 
personal    partiality.     It   is    said    that    the    celebrated 

1  Spectator,  No.  26. 


THEIR  GROWTH.  101 

French  sculptor  of  the  monument  of  Peter  the  Great 
at  St.  Petersburg,  after  showing  its  superiority  in  detail 
to  the  famous  equestrian  statue  of  Marcus  Aurelius  at 
Rome,  ended  by  the  candid  avowal,  "  Et  cependant  cette 
mauvaise  bete  est  vivantc,  et  la  mienne  est  morte"  Per- 
haps we  may  be  allowed  to  reverse  the  saying,  and, 
when  we  contrast  the  irregularities  of  Westminster 
Abbey  with  the  uniform  congruity  of  Salisbury  or  the 
Valhalla,  may  reflect,  "  Cette  Idle  bete  est  morte,  mais  la 
mienne  est  vivantc." 

We  have  seen,  again,  how  extremely  unequal  and 
uncertain  is  the  commemoration  of  our  celebrated  men. 
It  is   this    which   renders    the   interment  or  uncertain 

,.  .,1   .  ,,  1     ,  .  ,  distribution 

notice  witnin  our  walls  a  dubious  honour,  of  honours. 
and  makes  the  Abbey,  after  all,  but  an  imperfect  and 
irregular  monument  of  greatness.  But  it  is  this  also 
which  gives  to  it  that  perfectly  natural  character  of 
which  any  artificial  collection  is  entirely  destitute.  In 
the  Valhalla  of  Bavaria,  every  niche  is  carefully  por- 
tioned out :  and  if  a  single  bust  is  wanting  from  the 
catalogue  of  German  worthies,  its  absence  becomes  the 
subject  of  a  literary  controversy,  and  the  vacant  space 
is  at  last  filled.  Not  so  in  the  Abbey:  there,  as  in 
English  institutions  generally,  no  fixed  rule  has  been 
followed.  Graves  have  been  opened  or  closed,  monu- 
ments erected  or  not  erected,  from  the  most  various 
feelings  of  the  time.  It  is  the  general  wave  only  that 
has  borne  in  the  chief  celebrities.  Viewed  in  this  way, 
the  absences  of  wiiich  we  speak  have  a  touching  signifi- 
cance of  their  own.  They  are  eloquent  of  the  force  of 
domestic  and  local  affection  over  the  desire  for  metro- 
politan or  cosmopolitan  distinction  —  eloquent  of  the 
force  of  the  political  and  ecclesiastical  prejudice  at  the 
moment  —  eloquent   also   of   the    strange   caprices   of 


102  THE   MONUMENTS: 

the  British  public.^  Why  is  it  that  of  the  three  greatest 
names  of  English  literature  —  Shakspeare,  Bacon,  and 
Newton  —  the  last  only  is  interred,  and  the  second  not 
even  recorded,  in  the  Abbey  ?  Because  the  growth  of 
the  sentiment  which  drew  the  dust  of  our  illustrious 
men  hitherward  was  in  Elizabeth's  time  but  just  begin- 
ning. Why  are  men  so  famous  as  Burke  and  Peel 
amongst  statesmen,  as  Pope  and  Gray,  Wordsworth 
and  Southey  amongst  poets,  not  in  the  Statesmen's  or 
the  Poets'  Corner  ?  Because  the  patriarchal  feeling  in 
each  of  these  men  —  so  different  each  from  the  other, 
yet  alike  in  this  —  drew  them  from  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  great,  with  whom  they  consorted  in  the  tumult 
of  life,  to  the  graves  of  father  and  mother,  or  beloved 
child,  far  away  to  the  country  churchyards  where  they 
severally  repose  —  in  each,  perhaps,  not  unmingled 
with  the  longing  desire  for  a  simple  resting-place  which 
is  expressed  in  Pope's  epitaph  on  himself  at  Twicken- 
ham,^ and  in  Burke's  ^  reflections  during  his  first  visit 

1  Another  disturbing  force  has  in  late  years  been  found  in  the  at- 
traction of  St.  Paul's.  The  first  public  monument  erected  there  was 
that  of  Howard.  (See  Milman's  Annals,  p.  480.)  The  first  intimation 
of  the  new  feeling  is  in  Boswell's  Johnson,  ii.  226.  (1773.)  'A  propo- 
sition which  had  been  agitated,  that  monuments  to  eminent  persons 
should,  for  the  time  to  come,  be  erected  in  St.  Paul's  church,  as  well 
as  in  Westminster  Abbey,  was  mentioned  ;  and  it  was  asked  who  should 
be  honoured  by  having  his  monument  first  erected  there.  Somebody 
suggested  Pope.  Johnson  :  "  Why,  sir,  as  Pope  was  a  Roman  Catholic, 
I  would  not  have  his  to  be  first.  I  think  Milton's  riuher  should  have 
the  precedence.  I  think  more  highly  of  him  now  than  I  did  at  twenty. 
There  is  more  thinking  in  him  and  in  Butler  than  in  any  of  our  poets." ' 

2  See  p.  134. 

3  '  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  that  the  finest  poem  in  the  English 
language,  I  mean  Milton's  "  II  Pensero.so,"  was  composed  in  the  long- 
resounding  aisle  of  a  mouldering  cloister  or  ivy'd  abbey.  Yet,  after  all, 
do  you  know  that  I  would  rather  sleep  in  the  southern  corner  of  a 
country  churchyard  than  in  the  tomb  of  the  Capulets.  I  should  like, 
however,  that  my  dust  should  mingle  with  kindred  dust.     The  good  old 


THEIR  GROWTH.  103 

to  the  Abbey.  Why  is  it  that  Montague  Earl  of 
Sandwich,  Monk  Duke  of  Albemarle,  restorers  of  the 
monarchy,  Archbishop  Ussher,  the  glory  of  the  Irish 
Church,  Clarendon,  the  historian  of  the  great  Eebellion, 
rest  here  with  no  contemporary  monument  —  three  of 
them  with  none  at  all  ?  ^  That  blank  void  tells  a^ain 
in  the  bare  stones  the  often  repeated  story  of  the  in- 
gratitude of  Charles  II.  towards  those  to  whom  he 
owed  so  much  and  gave  so  little.  Why  is  it  that  poets 
like  Coleridge,  Scott,  and  Burns,  discoverers  like  Har- 
vey and  Bell,  have  no  memorial?  Because,  for  the 
moment,  the  fashion  of  public  interment  had  drifted 
away  from  the  Abbey,  or  lost  heed  of  departing  great- 
ness in  other  absorbing  interests,  or  ceased  to  regard 
proportion  in  the  distribution  of  sepulchral  honours. 

It  is  w^ell  that  this  should  be  so.  Westminster  Abbey 
is,  as  Dr.  Johnson  well  said,^  the  natural  resting-place 
of  those  great  men  who  have  no  bond  elsewhere.  Its 
metropolitan  position  has,  in  this  respect,  powerfully 
contributed  to  its  fame.  But  even  London  is,  or  ought 
to  be,  insignificant  compared  with  England  ;  even  West- 
minster Abbey  must  at  times  yield  to  the  more  vener- 
able, more  enduring  claims  of  home  and  of  race.  Those 
quiet  graves  far  away  are  the  Poets'  Corners  of  a  yet 
vaster  temple ;  or  may  we  take  it  yet  another  way,  and 
say  that  Stratford-on-Avon  and  Dryburgh,  Stoke  Pogis 

expression,  "  family  burying  ground,"  has  something  pleasing  in  it,  at 
least  to  me.'     (Prior's  Life  of  Burke,  i.  39.) 

1  See  pp.  53,  56. 

2  See  p.  148.     Compare  Beattie's  lines. 

Let  vanity  adorn  the  marble  tomb 

With  trophies,  rhymes,  and  scutcheons  of  renownj 

'Mid  the  deep  dungeon  of  some  Gothic  dome 
Where  night  and  desolation  ever  frown. 

Mine  be  the  breezy  hill,  &c. 


104  THE  MONUMENTS: 

and  Grasmere,  are  chapels-of-ease  united  by  invisible 
cloisters  with  Westminster  Abbey  itself? 

Again,  observe  how  magnificently  the  strange  con- 
junction of  tombs  in  what  has  been  truly  called  this 
TheToiera-  Tcmplc  of  Silcncc  and  Reconciliation  exem- 
Abbey.  plifies  the  wide  toleration  of  Death  —  may 
we  not  add,  the  comprehensiveness  of  the  true  religion 
of  the  Church  of  England  ?  Not  only  does  Elizabeth 
lie  in  the  same  vault  with  Mary  her  persecutor,  and  in 
the  same  chapel  with  Mary  her  victim ;  not  only  does 
Pitt  lie  side  by  side  with  Fox,  and  Macpherson  with 
Johnson,  and  Outram  with  Clyde ;  but  those  other 
deeper  differences,  which  are  often  thought  to  part 
more  widely  asunder  than  any  political  or  literary  or 
military  jealousy,  have  here  sunk  into  abeyance.  Gold- 
smith in  his  visit  to  the  Abbey,  puts  into  the  mouth  of 
his  Chinese  philosopher  an  exclamation  of  wonder  that 
the  guardianship  of  a  national  temple  should  be  con- 
fided to  '  a  college  of  priests.'  It  is  not  necessary  to 
claim  for  the  Deans  of  Westminster  any  exemption 
from  the  ordinary  infirmities  of  their  profession ;  but 
the  variety  of  the  monuments,  in  country  and  in  creed, 
as  well  as  in  taste  and  in  poHtics,  is  a  proof  that  the 
successive  chiefs  who  have  held  the  keys  of  St.  I'eter's 
Abbey  have,  on  the  whole,  risen  to  the  greatness  of 
their  situation,  and  have  endeavoured  to  embrace, 
within  the  wide  sympathy  of  their  consecrated  pre- 
cincts, those  whom  a  narrow  and  sectarian  spirit  might 
have  excluded,  but  whom  the  precepts  of  their  common 
Master,  no  less  than  the  instincts  of  their  common 
humanity,  should  have  bid  them  welcome.  The  exclu- 
siveness  of  Englishmen  has  given  away  before  the 
claims  of  the  French  Casaubon,  the  Swiss  Spanheim, 
tiie  Corsican  Paoli.     The  exclusiveness  of  Churchmen 


THEIR   VARIETY.  105 

has  allowed  the  entrance  of  the  Nonconformist  Watts, 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  Dryden.^  Courayer,  the  foreign 
latitudinarian,  Ephraim  Chambers,  the  sceptic  of  the 
humbler,  and  Sheffield,  the  sceptic  of  the  higher  ranks, 
were  buried  with  all  respect  and  honour  by  the  '  col- 
lege of  priests '  at  Westminster,  who  thus  acknowl- 
edged that  the  bruised  reed  was  not  to  be  broken, 
nor  the  smoking  flax  quenched.  Even  the  yet  harder 
problem  of  high  intellectual  gifts,  united  with  moral 
infirmity  or  depravity,  has  on  the  whole  here  met  with 
the  only  solution  which  on  earth  can  be  given.  If 
Byron  was  turned  from  our  doors,  many  a  one  as  ques- 
tionable as  Byron  has  been  admitted.  Close  above  the 
monument  of  the  devoted  Granville  Sharpe  is  the  mo*n- 
ument  of  the  epicurean  St.  Evremond.  Close  beneath 
the  tablet  of  the  blameless  Wharton  lies  the  licentious 
Con^reve.  The  godlike  gift  of  <jfenias  was  recognised  — ■ 
the  baser  earthly  part  was  left  to  the  merciful  judg- 
ment of  its  Creator.  So  long  as  Westminster  Abbey 
maintains  its  hold  on  the  affections  of  the  English 
Church  and  nation,  so  long  will  it  remain  a  standing 
proof  that  there  is  in  the  truest  feelings  of  human 
nature,  and  in  the  noblest  aspirations  of  religion,  some- 
thing deeper  and  broader  than  the  partial  judgments  of 
the  day  and  the  technical  distinctions  of  sects,  —  even 
than  the  just,  though  for  the  moment  misplaced,  indig- 
nation against  the  errors  and  sins  of  our  brethren.  It 
is  the  involuntary  homage  which  perverted  genius  pays 
to  the  superior  worth  of  goodness,  that  it  seeks  to  be 

1  Several  Roman  Catholics,  since  the  Reformation,  have  been  buried 
in  the  Abbey,  besides  those  before  enumerated.  Lord  Stafford  (1719) 
and  others  of  his  family  in  St.  Edmund's  Chapel,  with  Reqmescat  in 
pace  on  their  coffins  (Register);  De  Castro,  the  Portuguese  envoy,  la 
the  Nave,  1720  (ibidj. 


The  changes 
of  taste. 


106  THE   MONUMENTS: 

at  last  honoured  within  the  building  consecrated  to  the 
purest  hopes  of  the  soul  of  man ;  and  when  we  consent 
to  receive  such  within  our  walls,  it  is  the  best  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  truth  uttered  by  the  Christian  poet  — 

There  is  no  light  but  Thine  —  with  Thee  all  beauty  glows. 

There  is  yet  another  interest  attaching  to  the  tombs, 
even  the  worst  and  humblest  —  namely,  as  a  record  of 
the  vicissitudes  of  art.  Doubtless,  this  is 
shared  by  Westminster  Abbey  with  other 
great  cathedrals  and  churches.  Still  the  record  here  is 
more  continuous  and  more  striking  than  anywhere  else. 
We  trace  here,  as  in  a  long  procession,  the  gradual 
rising  of  the  recumbent  effigies  :  first,  to  lean  their 
heads  on  their  elbows,  then  to  kneel,  then  to  sit,  then 
to  stand  on  their  feet,  then  to  gesticulate,  then  to 
ascend  out  of  tomb,  or  sea,  or  ruins,  as  the  case  may 
be.  Every  stage  of  sepulchral  attitude  is  visible,  from 
the  knight  of  the  thirteenth  century,  with  his  legs 
crossed  on  his  stony  couch,  to  the  philanthropist  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  with  his  legs  crossed  far  otherwise, 
as  he  lounges  in  his  easy  armchair.  Forgive  them  ;  it 
may  be  a  breach  of  the  rules  of  ecclesiastical  order,  but 
it  is  also  the  life  of  the  nation,  awkwardly,  untowardly 
struggling  into  individual  existence.  It  will  enable 
future  generations  to  know  a  Wilberforce  as  he  actually 
was,  no  less  than  a  Plantagenet  prince  as  it  was  sup- 
posed he  ought  to  be.  At  times  the  two  streams  of 
taste  meet  so  abruptly  as  to  leave  their  traces  almost 
side  by  side.  The  expiring  mediaeval  art  of  Sir  Francis 
Vere's  monument  confronts  both  in  time  and  place 
the  first  rise  of  classical  art  in  the  monument  of  Sir 
George  Holies.  The  brass  effigy  of  the  engineer  Ste- 
phenson,  in   the  homeliest   of   all   modern   costumes, 


THEIR   VARIETY.  107 

carries  to  its  utmost  pitch  the  prosaic  realities  of  our 
age,  as  much  as  the  brass  effigy  of  Sir  Eobert  Wilson,  a 
few  yards  off,  in  complete  armour,  carries  to  a  no  less 
extravagance  its  unreal  romance. 

We  thus  discern  the  evanescent  phases  of  the  judg- 
ments of  taste,  which  ought  to  make  the  artists  and  the 
critics  of  each  successive  age,  if  not  sceptical,  at  least 
modest,  as  to  the  immortality  of  their  own  reputations. 
We  are  sometimes  shocked  at  the  ruthless  disregard  of 
ancient  days,  with  which  the  Eeformers  or  the  Puritans 
swept  away  the  altars  or  the  imagery  of  their  prede- 
cessors. But  we  have  seen  how  the  same  disregard  of 
antiquity  reaches  back  far  earlier.  'Ecdcsiam  stravit 
istam  quam  tunc  renovavit '  was  the  inscription  which 
long  glorified  the  memory  of  Henry  III.  for  destroying 
the  venerable  Norman  church  of  the  Confessor.  Henry 
V.'s  Chantry  absorbed  a  large  part  of  the  tombs  of 
Eleanor  and  Philippa.  Henry  A^II.  razed  to  the  ground 
what  must  have  been  the  graceful  Lady  Chapel  of 
Henry  III.  The  first  prodigious  intrusion  of  Pagan 
allegories,  the  first  reckless  mutilation  of  mediaeval  ar- 
chitecture by  modern  monuments,  is  the  tomb  of  the 
favourite  of  Charles  I.,  the  patron  and  friend  of  Arch- 
bishop Laud.  It  was  their  sanction  and  influence  that 
began  the  desecration,  as  it  is  now  often  thought,  which 
to  no  section  of  Church  or  State  is  so  repugnant  as  to 
the  spiritual  descendants  of  those  to  whom  it  then 
seamed  the  height  of  ecclesiastical  propriety. 

Or,  again,  we  pass  with  scorn  the  enormous  struct- 
ures which  Eoubiliac  raised  in  the  Nave  to  General 
Wade  and  General  Hargrave ;  but  a  great  London  anti- 
quary declared  of  one  of  them,  that  '  Europe  could 
hardly   show   a   parallel   to  it ; '  ^  and   the  other  was 

1  Jklalcolm,  p.  169. 


108  THE  MONUMENTS: 

deemed  by  the  artist  himself  so  splendid  a  work,  that 
he  used  to  come  and  weep  before  it,  to  see  that  it  was 
put  too  high  to  be  appreciated.^  The  clumsy  rocks  and 
'  maritime  monsters '  which  we  ridicule  in  the  strange 
representation  of  Admiral  Tyrell's  death  was,  at  the 
time,  deemed  '  a  truly  magnificent  monument, '  ^  and  its 
germ  may  even  be  seen  in  Addison's  plaintive  wish,^  — 
'  tliat  our  naval  monuments  might,  like  the  Dutch,  be 
adorned  with  rostral  courses  and  naval  ornaments,  with 
beautiful  festoons  of  seaweed,  shells,  and  coral'  A 
fastidious  correspondent  of  Pope,  whilst  he  criticises 
the  tombs  already  existing,  proposes  a  remedy  which  to 
us  appears  worse  than  the  disease. 

I  chose  a  place  for  my  wife  [says  Aaron  Hill]  in  the 
Abbey  Cloisters  —  the  wall  of  the  church  above  being  so 
loaded  with  marble  as  to  leave  me  no  room  to  distinguish  her 
monument.  But  there  is  a  low  and  unmeaning  lumpishness 
in  the  vulgar  style  of  monuments,  which  disgusts  me  as  often 
as  I  look  upon  them ;  and,  because  I  woukl  avoid  the  censure 
I  am  giving,  let  me  beg  you  to  say  whether  there  is  signifi- 
cance in  the  draught,  of  which  I  enclose  you  a  copy.  The 
flat  table  behind  is  black,  the  figures  are  wliite  marble.  The 
whole  of  what  you  see  is  but  part  of  the  monument,  and  will 
be  surrounded  by  pilasters,  arising  from  a  pediment  of  white 
marble,  having  its  foundation  on  a  black  marble  mountain, 
and  supporting  a  cornice  and  dome  that  will  ascend  to  the 
point  of  the  cloister  arch.     About  half-way  up  a  craggy  path, 

1  Akermann,  ii.  37. 

2  Charuock's  Naval  Biog.  v.  269.  —  I  have  myself  observed  persons 
above  the  class  of  rustics  standing  entranced  before  it,  and  calling  it 
the  'masterpiece  of  the  Abbey.'  When  Wesley  passed  through  the 
Abbey,  Feb.  25, 1771,  he  recorded  that  'the  two  monuments  with  which 
he  thought  none  of  the  others  worthy  to  be  compared,  are  that  of  Mrs. 
Nightingale,  and  that  of  the  Admiral  rising  out  of  his  tomb  at  the  Resurrec- 
tion.'—  Journal,  iii.  426.  ^  Spectator,  No.  26. 


THEIR  VARIETY.  109 

on  the  black  mountain  below,  will  be  the  figure  of  '  Time  '  in 
white  marble,  in  an  attitude  of  climbing,  obstructed  by  little 
Cupids,  of  the  same  colour  ;  some  rolling  stones  into  his  path 
from  above,  some  throwing  nets  at  his  feet  and  arms  from 
below  ;  others  in  ambuscade,  shooting  at  him  from  both 
sides ;  while  the  '  Death '  you  see  in  the  draught  will  seem, 
from  an  opening  between  hills  in  relievo,  to  have  found 
admission  by  a  shorter  way,  and  prevented  '  Time '  at  a 
distance.-' 

To  the  continuator  of  Stow,  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, the  tomb  of  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire, 
appears  far  superior  to  that  of  Henry  VII.,  particularly 
'  the  Trophy  and  figure  of  Time.'  '  I  have  seen  no  orna- 
ment that  has  pleased  me  better,  and  very  few  so  well.'  ^ 
In  like  manner,  the  tomb  and  screen  of  Abbot  Esteney 
fell  before  the  cenotaph  of  General  Wolfe,  which  nar- 
rowly escaped  thrusting  itself  into  the  place  of  the 
exquisite  mediaeval  monument  of  Aymer  de  A^alence. 

I  will  give  you  one  instance,  that  will  sum  up  the  vanity 
of  great  men,  learned  men,  and  buildings  altogether.  I  heard 
lately  that  Dr.  Pearce,  a  very  learned  personage,  had  con- 
sented to  let  the  tomb  of  Aymer  de  A^alence,  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke, a  very  great  personage,  be  removed  for  Wolfe's 
monument ;  that  at  first  he  had  objected,  but  was  wrought 
upon  by  being  told  that  hight  Aymer  was  a  templar,  a  very 
wicked  set  of  people,  as  his  Lordship  had  heard,  though  he 
knew  nothing  of  them,  as  they  are  not  mentioned  by  Lon- 
ginus ;  and  I  wrote  to  his  Lordship,  expressing  my  concern 
that  one  of  the  finest  and  most  ancient  monuments  in  the 
Abbey  should  be  removed,  and  begging,  if  it  was  removed, 
that  he  would  bestow  it  on  me,  who  would  erect  and  pre- 
serve it  at  Strawberry  Hill.     After  a  fortnight's  deliberation, 

1  Pope's  Works,  ix.  304. 

2  Stow's  Suivey  [1755],  ii.  619.     See  Appendix  to  Chapter  VI. 


110  THE  MONUMENTS. 

the  Bishop  sent  me  an  answer,  civil  indeed,  and  commending 
my  zeal  for  antiquity  !  but,  avowing  the  story  under  his  own 
hand,  he  said  that  at  first,  they  had  taken  Pembroke's  tomb 
for  a  Knight  Templar's  ;  that,  upon  discovering  whose  it  was, 
he  had  been  very  unwilling  to  consent  to  the  removal,  and 
at  last  had  obliged  Wilton  to  engage  to  set  the  monument  up 
within  ten  feet  of  where  it  stands  at  present.^ 

In  this  attack  on  the  Dean,  Horace  Walpole  has  all  the 
world  on  his  side,  and  possibly  the  world's  judgment  is 
now  fixed  for  ever.  Yet  if  some  successor  of  Zachary 
Pearce  were  now,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  modern  restora- 
tion, to  remove  General  Wolfe,  it  is  almost  certain  that 
he  would  incur  the  wrath  of  some  future  Walpole. 

There  are,  doubtless,  '  lumpish '  monuments  which 
obstruct  the  architecture,  which  have  no  historical  rea- 
son for  being  where  they  are,  and  might  be  more  fit- 
tingly placed  in  other  parts  of  the  Abbey.  On  these, 
so  far  as  friends  and  survivors  permit,  no  mercy  need 
be  shown.  But  still,  even  here  the  Deans  of  West- 
minster should  always  have  before  their  eyes  the 
salutary  terror  of  the  projected  misdeed  of  Bishop 
Pearce. 

It  must  also  be  borne  in  mind  that  these  incon- 
gruities are  no  special  marks  of  English  or  of  Pro- 
testant taste.  They  belong  to  the  wave  of  sentiment 
that  passed  over  the  whole  of  Europe  in  the  last 
century.2  The  Chapters  of  the  Cathedrals  of  Ptheims 
and  Strasburg  were  as  guilty  in  their  ruthless  destruc- 
tion as  ever  have  been  the  Chapter  of  any  English 
Cathedral.  The  Campo  Santo  at  Pisa  has  had  its 
delicate  tracery,  its  noble  frescoes,  mutilated  by  mon- 
uments  as   unsightly   as   any   in   Westminster.      The 

1  Walpole's  Letters,  ii.  274.  2  gge  Chapter  VI. 


VARIETIES  OF  JUDGMENT.  Ill 

allegorical  statues  in  the  Abbey  of  St.  Peter  are  but 
the  sister  figures,  on  a  less  gigantic  scale,  of  the  co- 
lossal forms  of  Pagan  mythology  which  cluster  round 
the  tombs  of  the  Popes  in  the  Basilica  of  St.  Peter. 
The  return  from  sitting,  standing,  speaking  statues  of 
the  dead  to  their  recumbent  or  kneeling  effigies,  has 
been  earlier  in  Protestant  England  than  in  Papal 
Italy. 

And  if  our  moral  indignation  is  also  roused  against 
the  prominence  of  many  a  name  now  forgotten,  yet  the 
same  mixture  of  mortification  and  satisfaction  which 
is  impressed  upon  us  as  we  see,  in  the  mon-  y^^.^^^  „f 
uments,  the  proof  of  the  fallibility  of  artistic  J'^-^s"'«"*- 
judgment,  is  impressed  upon  us  in  a  deeper  sense  as 
we  read,  in  the  history  of  their  graves,  or  their  epi- 
taphs, a  like  fallibility  of  moral  and  literary  judgment. 
In  this  way  the  obscure  poets  and  warriors  who  have 
attained  the  places  which  we  now  so  bitterly  grudge 
them,  teach  us  a  lesson  never  to  be  despised.  They 
tell  us  of  the  writings,  the  works,  or  the  deeds  in  which 
our  fathers  delighted ;  they  remind  us  that  the  tombs 
and  the  graves  which  now  so  absorb  our  minds  may  in 
like  manner  cease  to  attract  our  posterity;  they  put 
forward  their  successors  to  plead  for  their  perpetuation, 
at  least  in  the  one  place  where  alone,  perhaps,  a  hun- 
dred years  hence  either  will  be  remembered.  And  if 
a  mournful  feeling  is  left  upon  our  minds  by  the 
thought  that  so  many  reputations,  great  in  their  day, 
have  passed  away ;  yet  here  and  there  the  monuments 
contain  the  more  reassuring  record,  that  there  are  glories 
which  increase  instead  of  diminishing  as  time  rolls  on, 
and  that  there  are  judgments  in  art  and  in  literature, 
as  well  as  in  character,  which  will  never  be  reversed. 
As  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  the  eye  rests  with  peculiar 


112  THE  MONUMENTS. 

interest  on  Lord  DundonalcVs  banner,  fifty  years  ago 
torn  from  its  place  and  kicked  ignominiously  down  the 
fiif^ht  of  steps,  yet  witliin  our  own  time,  on  tlie  day  of 
the  old  sailor's  funeral,  reinstated  by  the  herald  at  the 
gracious  order  of  the  Sovereign  —  so  the  like  reparation 
is  constantly  working  on  a  larger  scale  elsewhere. 
The  inscription  on  Spenser's  tomb  shows  that  even  then 
the  time  had  not  arrived  when  the  true  Prince  of  Poets 
was  acknowledged  in  his  rightful  supremacy ;  yet  it 
arrived  at  last,  and  the  statue  of  Shakspeare,  better 
late  than  never,  became  the  centre  of  a  new  interest  in 
Poets'  Corner,  which  can  never  depart  from  it.^  And 
who  would  willingly  destroy  any  link  in  the  chain  of 
lesser  tablets,  from  Phillips  to  Gray,  which  marks  the 
gradual  rise  of  Milton's  fame,  from  the  days  when  he 
had  the  '  audience  fit  but  few '  to  the  moment  of  his 
universal  recognition  ?  ^ 

Shakspeare  and  Milton,  as  we  have  seen,  have  had 
their  redress.  For  others,  who  have  been  thus  over- 
looked, it  is  enough  now  to  say,  that  they  are  con- 
spicuous by  their  absence.  But  it  may  be  hoped  that 
these  injustices  will  become  rarer  and  rarer  as  time 
advances.  The  day  is  fast  approaching  when  the 
country  must  provide  for  the  continuation  to  future 
times  of  that  line  of  illustrious  sepulchres  which  has 
added  so  much  to  the  glory  both  of  Westminster  Abbey 
and  of  England.  Already,  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
the  alarm  was  raised  that  the  Abbey  was  '  loaded  with 
marbles ; '  a  '  Petition  from  Posterity '  ^  was  presented 
to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  to  entreat  that  their  case 
might  be  considered;  a  French  traveller  remarked  that 
'  le  peuple  n'est  pas  plus  serr^  dans  les  rues  de  Londres 

1  See  p.  126.  2  See  p.  123. 

8  Annual  Kegister,  1756,  p.  876. 


VAEIETIES  OF  JUDGMENT.  112^ 

qua  Westminster,  celebre  Abbaye,  demeure  des  mon- 
uments funebres  de  toutes  les  personnes  illustres  de  la 
nation ; '  ^  and  Young,  in  his  poem  on  the  Last  Day, 
describes  how 

That  ancient,  sacred,  and  illustrious,  dome, 
Where  soon  or  late  fair  Albion's  heroes  come, 
That  solemn  mansion  of  the  royal  dead, 
Where  passing  slaves  o'er  sleeping  monarchs  tread, 
Now  populous  o'erflows. 

Yet  the  very  pressure  increases  the  attraction.  Wliat 
a  poet,  already  quoted,  said  of  a  private  loss  is  still 
more  true  of  the  losses  of  the  nation  — '  A  monument 
in  so  frequented  a  place  as  Westminster  Abbey,  re- 
storing them  to  a  kind  of  second  life  among  the  living, 
will  be  in  some  measure  not  to  have  lost  them.'  ^  The 
race  of  our  distinguished  men  will  still  continue.  That 
they  may  never  be  parted  in  death  from  the  centre  of 
our  national  energies,  the  hearth  of  our  national  religion, 
should  be  the  joint  desire  at  once  of  the  Church  and  of 
the  Commonwealth.  The  legislature  has,  doubtless  for 
this  purpose,  excepted  the  two  great  metropolitan 
churches  from  the  general  prohibition  of  intramural 
interments.  Is  it  too  much  to  hope  that  it  will  carry 
out  the  intention,  by  erecting  within  the  precincts  of 
the  Abbey  a  Cloister,  which  shall  bear  on  its  portals 
the  names  of  those  who  have  been  forgotten  within  our 
walls  in  former  times,  and  entomb  beneath  its  floor  the 
ashes  of  the  illustrious  men  that  shall  follow  after  us  ? 
We  have  already  more  than  rivalled  Santa  Croce  at 
Florence.  Let  us  hope  in  future  days  to  excel  even 
the  Campo  Santo  at  Pisa. 

1  D'Holbach,  Quart.  Rev.  xviii,  326.  ^  Pope,  ix.  304. 

VOL.  II.  —  8 


114  THE   MONUMENTS. 


NOTE   ON  THE  WAXWORK  EFFIGIES. 

Amongst  the  various  accompaniments  of  great  funerals  — 
the  body  lying  in  state,  guarded  by  the  nobles  of  the  realm  ;  ^ 
the  torchlight  procession ;  ^  the  banners  and  arms  of  the 
deceased  hung  over  the  tomb  ^  —  there  was  one  so  peculiarly 
dear  to  the  English  public,  as  to  require  a  short  notice. 

This  was  '  the  herse  '  —  not,  as  now,  the  car  which  conveys 
the  coffin,  but  a  platform  highly  decorated  with  black  hang- 
ings, and  containing  a  waxen  effigy  of  the  deceased  person. 
It  usually  remained  for  a  month  in  the  Abbey,  near  the 
grave,  but  in  the  case  of  sovereigns  for  a  much  longer  time. 
It  was  the  main  object  of  attraction,  sometimes,  even  in  the 
funeral  sermon  (see  p.  217).  Laudatory  verses  were  attached 
to  it  with  pins,  wax  or  paste.*  Of  this  kind,  probably,  was 
Ben  Jonson's  epitaph  on  Lady  Pembroke  — 

Underneath  this  sable  herse 
Lies  the  subject  of  all  verse, 
Sidney's  sister,  etc. 

1  At  Monk's  funeral,  it  is  '  remarkable,'  says  Walpole,  '  that  forty- 
gentlemen  of  good  families  submitted  to  wait  as  mutes,  with  their 
backs  against  the  wall  of  the  chamber  where  the  body  lay  in  state,  for 
three  weeks,  waiting  alternately  twenty  each  day.' 

■•2  The  funerals  of  great  personages  were  usually  by  torchlight.  A 
solemn  remonstrance  was  presented  against  the  practice,  on  religious, 
apparently  Puritan,  grounds,  by  the  officials  of  the  Heralds'  College, 
in  1662.  It  was  addressed  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  to 
Convocation,  then  silting  for  the  revision  of  the  Prayer  Book.  No  no- 
tice was  taken.  The  last  (except  for  royalty)  was  that  of  Lady  Char- 
lotte Percy,  May  1781.  (Register;  Gent.  Mag.  1817,  part  i.  p.  33.) 
The  first  Cloister  funeral,  in  which  the  corpse  was  taken  into  the  church, 
and  the  whole  service  read,  was  that  of  George  Lane  Blount,  aged  91, 
March  26,  1847.     (Register.) 

3  These  still  remain,  in  St.  Paul's  Chapel,  over  the  graves  of  the 
Delavals,  and  remnants  of  others  are  preserved  in  the  Triforium. 

*  Cunningham's  Handbook  of  the  Abbey,  p.  16.  Many  of  the  refer- 
ences and  facts  in  this  note  I  owe  to  Mr.  William  Thorns,  F.S.A. 


THE   WAXWORK  EFFIGIES.  115 

.   They  were  even  highly  esteemed  as  works  of  art. 

Mr.  Emanuel  Decretz  (Serjeant-Painter  to  King  Charles  I.) 
told  me,  in  1G49,  that  the  catafalco  of  King  James,  at  his  funerall 
(which  is  a  kind  of  bed  of  state  erected  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
as  Robert  Earl  of  Essex  had,  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  General 
Monke),  was  very  ingeniously  designed  by  ^Ir.  Inigo  Jones,  and 
that  he  made  the  four  heades  of  the  cariatides  of  playster  of 
Paris,  and  made  the  drapery  of  them  of  white  callico,  which  was 
very  handsome  and  very  cheap,  and  shewed  as  well  as  if  they  had 
been  cutt  out  of  white  marble.^ 

These  temporary  erections,  planted  here  and  there  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  Abbey,  but  usually  in  the  centre,  before 
the  high  altar,*  must  of  themselves  have  formed  a  singular 
feature  in  its  appearance. 

But  the  most  interesting  portion  of  them  was  the  '  lively 
effigy,'  which  was  there  placed  after  having  been  carried  on 
a  chariot  before  the  body.  This  was  a  practice  which  has 
its  precedent,  if  not  its  origin,  in  the  funerals  of  the  great 
men  of  the  Roman  Commonwealth.  The  one  distinguishing 
mark  of  a  Roman  noble  was  the  right  of  having  figures,  with 
waxen  masks  representing  his  ancestors,  carried  at  his 
obsequies  and  placed  in  his  hall. 

In  England  the  effigies  at  Royal  Funerals  can  be  traced  * 
back  as  far  as  the  fourteenth  century.  After  a  time  they 
were  detached  from  the  hearses,  and  kept  in  the  Abbey, 
generally  near  the  graves  of  the  deceased,  but  were  gradually 

1  Aubrey's  Letters  and  Lives,  ii.  412.  — There  is  an  engraving  of  the 
Wax  Effigies  and  Catafalque  of  James  the  First  prefixed  to  the  funeral 
sermon  preached  by  Dean  Williams.  The  accounts  are  preserved  of  the 
periwig  and  heard  made  for  the  effigy.  (Lord  Chamherlain's  Records.) 
Monk's  hearse  was  designed  by  Francis  Barlow.  ( VValpole's  Anecdotes, 
p.  371.) 

2  See  funeral  of  Anne  of  Cleves,  Excerpta  Historica,  303. 

3  For  Edward  I.'s  effigy  (lying  on  his  tomb),  see  Piers  Langtoft  (ii. 
841 );  Arch.  iii.  386.  For  a  like  effigy  of  Anne  of  Bohemia,  see  Devon's 
Exchequer  Rolls,  17  R.  II. 


il6  THE   MONUMENTS. 

drafted  off  into  wainscot  presses  above  the   Islip   Chapel. 
Here  they  were  seen  in  Dryden's  time  — 

And  now  the  presses  open  stand, 
And  you  may  see  them  all  a-row.* 

In  1658  the  following  were  the  waxen  figures  thus 
exhibited  :  — 

He»ry  the  Seventh  and  his  fair  Queen, 

Edward  the  First  and  his  Queen, 
Henry  the  Fifth  here  stands  upright, 

And  his  fair  Queen  was  this  Queen. 

The  noble  Prince,  Prince  Henry, 

King  James's  eldest  son, 
King  James,  Queen  Anne,  Queen  Elizabeth, 

And  so  this  Chapel 's  done.^ 

With  this  agrees  the  curious  notice  of  them  in  1708  :  — 

And  so  we  went  on  to  see  the  ruins  of  majesty  in  the  women 
(sic:  waxen?)  figures  placed  there,  by  authority.  As  soon  as  we 
had  ascended  half  a  score  stone  steps  in  a  dirty  cobweb  hole,  and 
in  old  wormeaten  presses,  whose  doors  flew  open  at  our  approach, 
here  stood  Edward  the  Third,  as  they  told  us;  which  was  a 
broken  piece  of  waxwork,  a  batter'd  head,  and  a  straw-stuff'd 
body,  not  one  quarter  covered  with  rags;  his  beautiful  Queen 
stood  by,  not  better  in  repair ;  and  so  to  the  number  of  hidf  a 
score  Kings  and  Queens,  not  near  so  good  figures  as  the  King  of 
the  Beggars  make,  and  all  the  begging  crew  would  be  ashamed  of 
the  company.  Their  rear  was  brought  up  with  good  Queen  Bess, 
with  the  remnants  of  an  old  dirty  ruif,  and  nothing  else  to  cover 
her.8 

Stow  also  describes  the  effigies  of  Edward  III.  and  Philippa, 
Henry  V.  and  Catherine,  Henry  VII.  and  Elizabeth  of  York, 

1  Miscellaneous  Poems,  p.  301. 

2  Jlie  Mijsteries  of  Love  and  Eloquence,  p.  88.     (8vo,  London,  1658.) 

3  Tom  Brown's  Walk  through  London  and  Westminster,  p.  49.  He 
observes  that '  mo-?t  of  them  are  stripped  of  their  robes,  I  suppose  by  the 
late  rebels.  The  ancientest  have  escaped  best.  I  suppose,  because  their 
clothes  were  too  old  for  booty.'    Dart  (1717,  vol.  i.  p.  192). 


THE   WAXWORK  EFFIGIES.  117 

Henry  Prince  of  Wales,  Elizabeth,  James  I.,  and  Queen 
Anne,  as  shown  in  the  chamber  close  to  Islip's  Chapel.^  Of 
these  the  wooden  blocks,  entirely  denuded  of  any  ornament, 
still  remain. 

But  there  are  eleven  figures  in  a  tolerable  state  of  preser- 
vation. That  of  Queen  Elizabeth  was,  as  we  have  seen, 
already  worn  out  in  1 708  ;  and  the  existing  figure  ^^^^^^ 
is,  doubtless,  the  one  made  by  order  of  the  Chapter,  Elizabeth, 
to  commemorate  the  bicentenary  of  the  foundation  of  the 
Collegiate  Church,  in  1760.  As  late  as  1783  it  stood  in 
Henry  VII. 's  Chapel.  The  effigy  of  Charles  II.  used  to  stand 
over  his  grave,  and  close  beside  him  that  of  General 

.  „  Charles  II. 

Monk.    Charles  II.  is  tolerably  perfect,^  and  seems  General 
to  have  early  attracted  attention  from  the  contrast 
with  his  battered  predecessors.     !Monk  used  to  stand  beside 
his  monument  by  Charles  II.'s  grave.     The  effigy  is  in  too 
dilapidated  a  condition  to  be  shown,  but  the  rem- 
nants of  his  armour  exist  still.     The  famous  cap, 
in  which  the  contributions  for  the  showmen  were  collected. 


Our  conductor  led  us  through  several  dark  walks  and  winding 
ways,  uttering  lies,  talking  to  himself,  and  flourishing  a  wand 
which  he  held  in  his  hand.  He  reminded  me  of  the  black  magi- 
cians of  Kobi.  After  we  had  been  almost  fatigued  with  a  variety 
of  objects,  he  at  last  desired  me  to  consider  attentively  a  certain 
suit  of  armour,  which  seemed  to  show  nothing  remarkable.  '  This 
armour,'  said  he,  '  belonged  to  General  Monk.'  —  Very  surprising 
that  a  general  should  wear  armour ;  — '  And  pray,'  added  he, 
*  observe  this  cap ;  this  is  General  Monk's  cap.'  —  Very  strange 

1  The  face  of  Elizabeth  of  York  was  still  perfect  when  seen  by 
Walpole.  {Anecdotes  of  Painting,  i.  61.)  In  1754  were  also  to  be  seen 
what  were  shown  as  the  crimson  velvet  robes  of  Edward  VI.  {Descrip- 
tion of  the  Abbeif  and  its  Monuments  [1754],  p.  753.)  These  were  shown 
to  Dart,  as  of  Edward  III.  (i.  192). 

2  '  That  as  much  as  he  excelled  his  predecessors  in  mercy,  wisdom, 
and  liberality,  so  does  his  effigies  exceed  the  rest  in  liveliness,  propor- 
tion, and  magnificence.'     (Ward's  London  Spy,  chap.  viii.  p.  170.) 


118  THE   MONUMENTS. 

indeed,  very  strange,  that  a  general  should  have  a  cap  also !  — • 
'  Frav,  friend,  what  might  this  cap  have  cost  originally? '  '  That, 
sir,'  says  he,  '  I  don't  know ;  but  this  cap  is  all  the  wages  1  have 
for  my  trouble.'  ^ 

The  Fragment  on  the  Abbe i/ in  the  '  Ingoldsby  Legends' 
thus  concludes  :  — 

I  thought  on  Xaseby,  Marston  Moor,  and  Worcester's  crowning 

fight, 
AVhen  on  my  ear  a  sound  there  fell,  it  filled  me  with  affright ; 
As  thus,  in  low  unearthly  tones,  I  heard  a  voice  begin  — 
'  This  here  's  the  cap  of  General  Monk!  Sir,  jilease  put  summut  in.''  ^ 

William  III.,  Mary,  and  Anne  were,  in  1754,  'in  good 
William  III  condition  and  greatly  admired  by  every  eye  that 
and  Queen  beheld  them,'  ^  and  have  probably  not  been  changed 
■'^""'=-  since.    A  curious  example  of  large  inferences  drawn 

from  small  premisses  may  be  seen  in  Michelet's  comment  on 
the  wax  effigy  of  William  III.  — 

La  fort  bonne  figure  en  cire  de  Guillaume  III.  qui  est  k  West- 
minster, le  montre  au  vrai.  II  est  en  pied  comme  11  fut,  mesquin, 
jaune,  mi-Fran9ais  par  Thabit  rubane  de  Louis  XIV.  mi-Anglais 
de  flegme  apparent,  etre  k  sang  froid,  que  pousse  certaine  fatalite 
mauvaise.* 

The  Duchess  of  Eichmond  (see  p.  33)  stood  '  at  the  corner 
T.    .        ,     of  the  great  east  window '  —  acconling  to  her  will 

Duchess  of  o  => 

Richmond.  —  <  ^s  well  done  in  wax  ^  as  could  be,  and  dressed 
in  coronation  robes  and  coronet  (those  which  she  wore  at  the 
coronation  of  Queen  Anne),  under  clear  crown-glass  and  none 

1  Goldsmith's  Citizen  of  the  World. 

2  Inqoldsbij  Lerjends. 

3  Description  of  the  Ahhey  (1574),  p.  753.  But  none  of  these  effigies, 
nor  indeed  of  Charles  II.  (I  learn  from  Mr.  Doyne  Bell),  were  carried 
at  the  funerals.  The  hearse  of  Mary  II.,  made  by  Wren,  was  the  last 
used  for  a  Sovereign. 

4  Michelet,  Louis  XIV.  (1864),  p.  170. 

^  By  a  Mr.  Goldsmith.     (Cunningham's  London,  p.  5-39.) 


THE  WAXWORK  EFFIGIES.  119 

other,'  with  her  favourite  parrot.     The  Duchess   of  Buck- 
inghamshire, with  one  son,  as  a  child  (see  p.  79)  ^^^^,^^3  ^j 
stood  by  her  husband's  monument.     The  figure  of  Bucking- 
her  last  survivincr  son  is  represented  in  a  recumbent  and  her  son, 

'='  ^  second  Uuke 

posture,  as  the  body  was  brought  from  Rome.    This  of  Bucking- 

f  '  J  o  _  hamshire. 

is  the  last  genuine  *  effigy.'      It  long  lay  in  the 
Confessor's  Chapel.^ 

The  two  remaining  figures  belong  to  a  practice,  now  hap- 
pily discontinued,  of  ekeing  out  by  fees  the  too  scanty 
incomes  of  the  Minor  Canons  and  Lay  Vicars,  who  in  con- 
sequence enlarged  their  salaries  by  adding  as  much  attraction 
as  they  could  by  new  waxwork  figures,  when  the  custom  of 
making  them  for  funerals  ceased.     One  of  these  is 

°  .  ^  Chatham. 

the  effigy  of  Lord  Chatham,  erected  in  1779,  when 
the  fee  for  showing  them  was,  in  consideration  of  the  interest 
attaching  to  the  great  statesman  (see  page  97),  raised  from 
three-pence  to  sixpence.^  'Lately  introduced'  (says  the 
Guide-book  of  1783)  'at  a  considerable  expense.  .  .  .  The 
eagerness  of  connoisseurs  and  artists  to  see  this  figure,  and 
the  satisfaction  it  affords,  justly  places  it  among  the  first  of 
the  kind  ever  seen  in  this  or  any  other  country.'  ^ 

The  waxwork  figure  of  Nelson  furnishes  a  still  more  re- 
markable proof  of  his  popularity,  and  of  the  facility  with 

which  local  traditions  are  multiplied.     After  the 

,  Nelson. 

public  funeral,  the  car  on  which  his  coffin  had  been 
carried  to  St.   Paul's  was  deposited  there,  and   became  an 
object  of  such  curiosity,  that  the  sightseers  deserted  West- 
minster, and  all  flocked  to  St.  Paul's.'*     This  was  a  serious 

1  Westminster  Abbey  anrf  its  Curiosities  (1783),  p.  47. 

2  The  original  fee  had  been  a  penny.  (See  Peacham's  Worth  of  a 
Penny.) 

3  Westminster  Abbey  and  its  Ctiriosities,  p.  51. 

*  Nelson's  saying  on  the  Abbey  has  been  variously  reported  as  'a 
Peerage  or  Westminster  Abbey,'  and  '  Victory  or  Westminster  Abbey,' 
and  is  often  said  to  have  been  the  signal  given  at  Aboukir.  (So,  for 
example,  Montalembert's  Moines  de  V Occident,  iv.  431.)  Sir  Augustus 
Clifford  has  pointed  out  to  me  the  real  occasion.     It  was  at  the  battle 


120  THE   MONUMENTS. 

injury  to  the  officials  of  the  Abbey.  Accordingly,  a  wax- 
work figure  of  the  hero  was  set  np,  said  to  have  been  taken 
from  a  smaller  figure,  for  which  he  had  sat,  and  dressed  in 
the  clothes  which  he  had  actually  worn  (with  the  exception 
of  the  coat).  Tlie  result  was  successful,  and  the  crowds 
returned  to  Westminster. 

Ludicrous  and  discreditable  as  these  incidents  may  be, 
they  are  the  exact  counterparts  of  the  rivalry  of  relics  in  the 
monasteries  of  the  Middle  Ages  —  such  as  we  have  already 
noticed  in  the  endeavours  of  the  Westminster  monks  to  out- 
bid the  legends  of  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul  ^  (Chapter  I.), 
and  as  may  be  seen  in  the  artifices  of  the  Abbey  of  St. 
Augustine  to  outshine  the  Cathedral  at  Canterbury.^  (See 
Memorials  of  Canterbury,  p.  199.) 

of  Cape  St.  Vincent,  on  Feb.  14,  1797,  'the  most  glorious  Valentine's 
Day '  (as  Nelson  nsed  to  call  it).  The  Commodure,  as  he  then  was, 
had  just  taken  the  Spanish  ship  '  San  Nicholas,'  when  he  found  himself 
engaged  with  another  three-decker,  the  '  San  Josef.'  '  The  two  alter- 
natives that  presented  themselves  to  his  unshaken  mind  were  to  quit 
the  prize  or  instantly  to  board  the  three-decker.  Confident  of  the 
bravery  of  his  seamen,  he  determined  on  the  latter.  .  .  .  He  headed 
the  assailants  himself  in  this  sea-attack,  exclaiming  "  Westminster 
Abbey  or  glorious  victory ! " '  (Letter  of  Col.  Drinkwater,  an  eyewit- 
ness of  the  battle,  quoted  in  Pettigrew's  Life  of  Nelson,  i.  94.)  .The 
success  was  complete,  and  Nelson  marked  his  sense  of  its  value  by  trans- 
mitting the  sword  which  the  commander  of  the  '  San  Josef '  surrendered 
into  his  hands  to  the  Town  Hall  of  his  native  county  at  Norwich,  where 
it  still  remains.     (Ibid.  90.) 

i  '  St.  Paul's  affords  a  new  theatre  for  statuaries,  and  suggests  mon- 
uments there ;  the  Abbey  would  still  preserve  its  general  customers  by- 
new  recruits  of  waxen  puppets.'  (Walpole's  Anecdotes  of  Painting, 
p.  556.) 

2  Another  resemblance  to  the  mediaeval  usage  of  decorating  the 
images  of  saints  may  be  seen  in  the  adornment  (apparently)  of  the 
wax  effigies  in  the  Abbey  for  the  visits  of  great  persons.  '  King  Chris- 
tianas (of  Denmark)  and  Prince  Henry  went  into  the  Abbey  of  West- 
minster, and  into  the  Chapel  Royal  of  Henry  VH.,  to  behold  the 
monuments,  against  whose  coming  the  image  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and 
certain  other  images  of  former  Kings  and  Queens,  were  newly  beauti- 
fied, amended,  and  adorned  with  royal  vestures.' —  (Nichol's  Progresses 
of  James  I.  ii.  87  [in  1606].) 


THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  EEFORMATION. 

The  approach  to  the  Abbey  through  these  gloomy  monastic 
remains  prepares  the  mind  for  its  solemn  contemplation.  The 
Cloisters  still  retain  something  of  the  quiet  and  seclusion  of 
former  days.  The  gray  walls  are  discoloured  by  damp,  and 
crumbling  with  age  :  a  coat  of  hoary  moss  has  gathered  over  the 
inscriptions  of  the  several  monuments,  and  obscured  the  death's 
heads  and  other  funereal  emblems.  The  sharp  touches  of  the 
chisel  are  gone  from  the  rich  tracery  of  the  arches.  The  roses 
which  adorned  the  keystones  have  lost  their  leafy  beauty :  every- 
thing bears  marks  of  the  gradual  dilapidation  of  time,  which  yet 
has  something  touching  and  pleasing  in  its  very  decay.  The  sun 
was  pouring  down  a  yellow  autumnal  ray  into  the  square  of  the 
Cloisters,  beaming  upon  a  scanty  plot  of  grass  in  the  centre,  and 
lighting  up  an  angle  of  the  vaulted  passage  with  a  kind  of  dusky 
splendour.  From  between  the  arches  the  eye  glanced  up  to  a  bit 
of  blue  sky  or  a  passing  cloud,  and  beheld  the  sun-gilt  pinnacles 
of  the  Abbey  towering  into  the  azure  heaven.  —  Washington 
Irvxng's  Sketch  Book,  i.  399. 


SPECIAL  AUTHORITIES. 

The  special  authorities  for  this  chapter  are  :  — 

I.   Flete's  History  of  the  Monastery,  from  its  Foundation  to 
A.D.  1386.     MS.  in  the  Chapter  Library,  of  which  a 
modern  transcript  exists  in  the  Lambeth  Library. 
n.    The  fourth  part   of  the   Consuetudines  of  Abbot  AVare 
(1258-1283),  amongst  the  MSS.  in  the  Cotton  Library. 
It  has  evidently  been  much  used  by  Dart  in  his  Antiq- 
uities of  Westminster.    But  since  that  time  it  was  much 
injured  in  the  fire  of  1731,  which  damaged  the  Library 
in  the  Westminster  Cloisters  (see  Chapter  VI.),  and 
was  long  thought  to  be  illegible.     Within  the  last  two 
years,  however,  it  has  in  great  part  been  deciphered, 
by  an  ingenious  chemical  process,  at  the  expense  of 
the  Dean  and  Chapter,  and  a  transcript  deposited  in 
the  Chapter  Library.     In  the  use  made  of  it  I  have 
derived  much  assistance  from  the  classification  of  its 
contents  by  Mr.  Gilbert  Scott,  jun.,  and  the  comments 
upon  it  by  Mr.  Ashpitel. 
in.    Cartulary  of  the  Abbey  of  St.  Peter,  Westminster,  of  which 
an  abstract  was  printed  for  private  circulation  by  Mr. 
Samuel  Bentley,  1836,  the  original  being  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Sir  Charles  Young,  to  whose  kindness  I  owe  the 
use  made  of  it. 
rV.   Walcott's  Memorials  of  Westminster  (1849). 
V.    West7ninster  Improvements:  a  brief  Account  of  Ancient 
and  Modern  Westminster,  by  One  of  the  Architects 
of  the  Westminster  Improvement  Company  (William 
Bardwell).     1839. 
For  the  general  arrangements  of  an  English  Benedictine  Mon- 
astery, I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  refer  my  readers  to  the  long- 
expected  account  of  the  best  preserved  and  best  explained  of  the 
whole  class,  —  the  description  of  the  Monastery  of  Canterbury 
Cathedral  by  Professor  Willis  in  the  Archceologia  Cantiana,  vol. 
vii.  pp.  1-206. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  EEFORMATION. 

WE  have  hitherto  considered  the  Abbey  in  refer- 
ence to  the  general  history  of  the  country.  It 
now  remains  to  track  its  connection  with  the  ,j.,^g  ^^^^^ 
ecclesiastical  establishment  of  which  it  formed  '^*'■^'^• 
a  part,  and  which,  in  its  turn,  has  peculiar  points  of 
contact  with  the  outer  world.  This  inquiry  naturally 
divides  itself  into  the  periods  before  and  after  the  Eef- 
ormation,  though  it  will  be  impossible  to  keep  the  two 
entirely  distinct.  There  is,  however,  one  peculiarity 
which  belongs  almost  equally  to  both,  and  constitutes 
the  main  distinction  both  of  the  '  Monastery  ^  of  the 
west'  from  other  Benedictine  establishments,  and  of 
the  'Collegiate  Church'  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of 
Westminster  from  cathedrals  in  general. 

The  Monastery  and  Church  of  Westminster  were,  as 
we  have  seen,^  enclosed  within  the  precincts 

Its  connec- 

of  the  Palace  of  Westminster  as  completely  tionwith 

^  "^     the  Palace. 

as  the  Abbey  of  Holyrood  ^  and  the  Convent 

of   the   Escurial   were   united   with   those   palaces   of 

1  The  independence  of  the  Monastery  from  episcopal  jurisdiction  is 
of  course  common  to  all  other  great  monastic  bodies,  and  forms  a  part 
of  the  vast  '  Presbyterian '  government,  which,  before  the  Reformation, 
flourished  side  by  side  with  Episcopacy.  What  I  have  here  had  to 
trace  is  its  peculiar  form  in  Westminster. 

2  See  Chapter  I. 

3  This  was  true  even  when  Holyrood  was  on  the  site  of  the  Castle 
rock,  of  which  a  trace  remains  in  the  fact  that  the  Castle  is  still  a  part 
of  the  parish  of  Canongate.     (Joseph  Robertson.) 


124   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

the  Scottish  and  Spanish  sovereigns.  The  Abbey  was, 
in  fact,  a  Eoyal  Chapel  ^  on  a  gigantic  scale.  The  King 
had  a  private  entrance  to  it  through  the  South  Tran- 
sept, almost  direct  from  the  Confessor's  Hall,^  as  well 
as  a  cloister  communicating  with  the  great  entrance  for 
State  processions  ^  in  the  North  Transept.  Even  to  this 
day,  in  official  language,  the  coronations  are  said  to 
take  place  in  '  Our  Palace  at  Westminster,'  *  though  the 
Sovereign  never  sets  foot  in  the  Palace  strictly  so  called, 
and  the  whole  ceremony  is  confined  to  the  Abbey, 
which  for  the  time  passes  entirely  into  the  possession 
of  the  Crown  and  its  officers. 

From  this  peculiar  connection  of  the  Abbey  with  the 
Palace  —  of  which  many  traces  will  appear  as  we  pro- 
its  inde  *^®®^  —  arose  the  independence  of  its  ecclesias- 
pendence.  ^j^^^j  constitutiou  and  its  dignitaries  from  all 
other  authority  within  the  kingdom.  Even  in  secular 
matters,  it  was  made  the  centre  of  a  separate  jurisdic- 
tion in  the  adjacent  neighbourliood.  Very  early  in  its 
history,  Henry  III.  pitted  the  forces  of  Westminster 
against  the  powerful  citizens  of  London.^  Some  of  its 
privileges  at  the  instance  of  the  Londoners  ^  were  re- 
moved by  Edward  I.  But  whatever  show  of  indepen- 
dence the  City  of  Westminster  still  possesses,  it  owes 
to  a  reminiscence  of  the  ancient  grandeur  of  its  Abbey. 
So  completely  was  the  Monastery  held  to  stand  apart 

1  '  Capella  nostra,'  'peculiaris  cnpella  pallati!  nostri  principalis,'  is  Ed- 
ward III.'s  description  of  the  Abbey.     (Dugdale's  Monasticon,  i.  312.) 

2  See  Chapter  III.  Gent.  Mag.  [1828],  pt.  i.  p.  421.  — Fires  in  the 
Palace  are  described  as  reaching  the  Monastery.  (Archives,  a.  d.  1334 ; 
Matt.  Paris,  a.  d.  1269.) 

3  Westminster  Improvements,  14. 
*  See  London  Gazettes  of  1838. 

s  Matt.  Paris,  a.  d.  1250.  '  Utinam  non  in  aliorum  laesionem,'  is  an 
annotation  by  some  jealous  hand. 

6  Ridgway,  pp.  52,  207  ;  Rishanger,  A.  d.  1277. 


ITS  INDEPENDENCE.  125 

from  the  adjacent  metropolis,  that  a  journey  of  the 
monastic  officers  to  London,  and  even  to  the  manor  of 
Paddington,  is  described  as  an  excursion  which  is  not 
to  be  allowed  without  express  permission.^  The  Dean 
is  still  the  shadowy  head  of  a  shadowy  corporation : 
and  on  the  rare  occasions  of  pageants  which  traverse 
the  whole  metropolis,  the  Dean,  with  his  High  Steward 
and  High  Bailiff,  succeeds  to  the  Lord  Mayor  at  Temple 
Bar.2  In  former  times,  down  to  the  close  of  the  last 
century,  the  Dean  possessed,  by  virtue  of  this  position, 
considerable  power  in  controlling  the  elections,  even 
then  stormy,  of  the  important  constituency  of  West- 
minster. 

In  like  manner  the  See  of  London,  whilst  it  stretches 
on  every  side,  has  never  ^  but  once  penetrated  the  pre- 
cincts of  Westminster.  The  Dean,  as  the  Abbot  before 
him,  still  remains  supreme  under  the  Crown.  The 
legend  of  the  visit  of  St.  Peter  to  the  fisherman  had  for 
one  express  object  the  protection  of  the  Abbey  against 
the  intrusion  of  the  Bishop  of  London.*  'From  that 
time  there  was  no  King  so  undevout  that  durst  it  vio- 
late, or  so  holy  a  Bishop  that  durst  it  consecrate.'  ^ 
The  claims  to  be  founded  on  the  ruins  of  a  Temple  of 
Apollo,  and  by  King  Sebert,  have  the  suspicious   ap- 

1  Ware,  170. 

2  As  in  the  reception  of  the  Princess  Alexandra  in  1862.  It  was 
usual,  down  to  the  seventeenth  century,  for  the  Lord  Mayors  of  London, 
after  they  had  been  sworn  into  office  in  Westminster  Hall,  to  come  to 
the  Abbe^-,  and  offer  up  their  devotions  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel. 
( Widmore,  p.  161.)  It  is  probably  a  relic  of  this  which  exists  in  the 
payment  for  '  the  Lord  Mayor's  Candle '  in  the  Abbey. 

3  There  was  an  attempt  made  in  1845,  under  the  energetic  episco- 
pate of  Bishop  Blomfield,  to  include  the  Abbey  in  the  diocese  of  Lon- 
don, but  it  was  foiled  by  the  vigilance  of  Bishop  Wilberforce,  who,  for 
that  one  year,  occupied  the  Deanery  of  Westminster. 

*  See  Chapter  I.,  pp.  11,  24.  ^  Mores  Life  of  Richard  III.  177. 


126   THE  ABBEY  BEFOKE  THE  REFORMATION. 

pearance  of  being  stories  intended  to  counteract  the 
claims  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  to  the  Temple  of  Diana, 
and  of  its  claim  to  that  royal  patronage.^  Even  the 
haughty  Dunstan  was  pressed  into  the  service,  and  was 
made,  in  a  spurious  charter,  to  have  relinquished  his 
rights  as  Bishop  of  London.  The  exemption  was  finally 
determined  in  the  trial  between  Abbot  Humez  and 
Bishop  Fauconberg,  in  the  thirteenth  century,  when  it 
was  decided  in  favour  of  the  Abbey  by  a  court  of  ref- 
erees ;  whilst  the  manor  of  Sudbury  was  given  as  a  com- 
pensation to  the  Bishop,  and  the  church  of  Sudbury  to 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral.^  An  Archdeacon  of  Westminster, 
who  is  still  elected  by  the  Chapter,  exercised,  under 
them  for  many  years,  an  archidiaconal  jurisdiction  ^  in 
the  Consistory  Court  under  the  South-western  Tower. 
In  the  sacred  services  of  the  Abbey  neither  Archbishop 
nor  Bishop,  except  in  the  one  incommunicable  rite  of 
Coronation,  was  allowed  to  take  part  without  the  per- 
mission of  the  Abbot,  as  now  of  the  Dean.  When 
Archbishop  Turbine  consecrated  Bernard  Bishop  of 
St.  David's,  that  Queen  Maud  might  see  it,  probably  in 
St.  Catherine's  Chapel,  it  was  with  the  special  conces- 
sion of  the  Abbot.^  When  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  pre- 
sided at  the  funeral  of  Eleanor,  it  was  because  the 
Abbot  (Wenlock)  had  quarrelled  with  Archbishop 
Peckham.^  From  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  the  privilege 
of  burying  great  personages  has  been  entirely  confined 
to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  Westminster.  From  the 
first  occasion  of  the  assembling  of  the  Convocation  of 

1  "Wharton,  Ep.  Lond.  p   247. 

2  Ibid.  p.  29 ;   Widmore,  p.  38.    For  the  privileges  in  detail,  see 
Flete,  c.  ii.  xii. 

^  Wills  were  proved  there  till  1674.  *  Eadmer,  p.  116. 

5  Ridgway,  pp.  103,  104 ;  Wykes. 


THE   NORMAN  ABBOTS.  127 

the  Province  of  Canterbury  within  the  precincts  of 
Westminster,  down  to  the  present  day,  the  Archbishop 
has  always  been  met  by  a  protest,  as  from  the  Abbot  so 
from  the  Dean,  against  any  infringement  of  the  privi- 
leges of  the  Abbey. 

The  early  beginnings  of  the  Monastery  have  been 
already  traced.  Its  distinct  history  first  appears  after 
the  Conquest,  and  is  concentrated  almost  entirely  in 
the  Abbots.  As  in  all  greater  convents,  the  r^,^^ 
Abbots  were  personages  of  nearly  episcopal  -'^^^°'^^- 
magnitude,  and  in  Westminster  their  peculiar  relation 
to  the  Crown  added  to  their  privileges.  The  Abbots 
since  the  Conquest,  according  to  the  Charter  of  the 
Confessor,  were,  with  two  exceptions  (Humez  and  Bos- 
ton), all  chosen  from  the  Convent  itself.  They  ranked, 
in  dignity,  next  after  the  Abbots  of  St.  Albans.^  A 
royal  licence  was  always  required  for  their  election,^  as 
well  as  for  their  entrance  into  possession.  The  election 
itself  required  a  confirmation,  obtained  in  person  from 
the  Pope,  who,  however,  sometimes  deputed  the  duty 
of  installation  to  a  Bishop.  On  their  accession  they 
dropped  their  own  surnames,  and  took  the  names  of 
their  birthplaces,  as  if  by  a  kind  of  peerage.  They 
were  known,  like  sovereigns,  by  their  Christian  names 
—  as  '  Ptichard  the  First,'  or  '  Eichard  the  Second  '  ^  — 
and  signed  themselves  as  ruling  over  their  communities 
'  by  the  grace  of  God.'  They  were  to  be  honoured  as 
'  Vicars  of  Christ.'  When  the  Abbot  passed,  every  one 
was  to  rise.     To  him  alone  the  monks  confessed.^    A 

1  For  the  whole  question  of  precedence,  as  between  the  Abbot  of 
St.  Albans,  the  Abbot  of  Westminster,  and  the  Prior  of  Canterbury 
Cathedral,  see  Mr.  Riley's  preface  to  Walsingham's  Chronicles  of  the 
Abbots  of  St.  Albans,  vol.  iii.  pp.  Ixxii.-lxxv. 

2  Ware.  3  Ibid.  p.  403. 
«  Archives  of  St.  Paul's,  a.d.  1261. 


128   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  EEFORMATION. 

solemn  benediction  answered  in  his  case  to  an  episcopal 
consecration.  If,  after  his  election,  he  died  before  re- 
ceiving this,  he  was  to  be  buried  like  any  other  monk  ; 
but  otherwise,  his  funeral  was  to  be  on  the  most  sump- 
tuous scale,  and  the  anniversary  of  his  death  to  be 
always  celebrated.^ 

Edwin,  the  first  Abbot  of  whom  anything  is  known, 
was  probably,  through  his  friendship  with  the  Confes- 
sor, the  secret  founder  of  the  Abbey  itself. 

Edwin,  '  1    1         r.    •   1  />    11 

1049-68.  He,  though  as  long  as  he  lived  he  faithfully 
visited  the  tomb  of  his  friend,  accommodated  himself 
with  wonderful  facility  to  the  Norman  Conqueror,  and 
in  that  facility  laid  the  foundation  of  the  most  regal 
residence  in  England.  Amongst  the  Confessor's  dona- 
tions to  Westminster,  there  was  one  on  which  the  Con- 
queror set  his  affections,  for  his  retreat  for  hunting,  '  by 
Origin  of  reason  of  the  pureness  of  the  air,  the  pleasant- 
caT«e.°'  ness  of  the  situation,  and  its  neighbourhood 
to  wood  and  waters.'  It  was  the  estate  of  '  the  wind- 
ing' of  the  Thames —  ' Windsor.' 2  This  the  Abbot 
conceded  to  the  King,  and  received  in  return  some  lands 
in  Essex,  and  a  mill  at  Stratford;  in  recollection  of 
which  the  inhabitants  of  Stepney,  Whitechapel,  and 
Stratford  used  to  come  to  the  Abbey  at  Whitsuntide  ;3 
and  two  bucks  from  the  forest  of  Windsor  were  always 
sent  to  the  Abbot  on  the  Feast  of  St.  Peter  ad  Vincula.* 


1  "Ware,  p.  10. —  The  MS.  is  here  verv  imperfect;  but  for  the  fu- 
nerals see  the  Islip  Roll,  and  for  the  general  privileges,  see  Chronicle  of 
Abingdon,  ii.  3.36-350. 

2  Neale,  i.  29.  Windles-ore,  not  the  '  winding-shore,'  as  is  generally 
said  ;  but,  as  I  have  been  informed  by  a  learned  Scandinavian  scholar, 
'  the  winding  sandbank,'  or '  the  sandspit  in  a  winding,'  as  in  Helsing-or 
(Elsinore). 

3  Akermann,  i.  74. 

*  Cartulary ;  Dugdale,  i.  310. 


THE   NORMAN  ABBOTS.  129 

Edwin  was  first  buried  in  the  Cloister ;  afterwards,  as 
we  shall  see,  in  the  Chapter  House. 

To  Edwin  succeeded  a  series  of  Norman  Abbots  — 
Geoffrey,  Vitalis,  Gislebert,  Herbert,  and  Ger-  ^^^^^^^ 
vase,  a  natural  son  of  King  Stephen.     Geoffrey  106S-74. ' 
was  desposed,  and  retired  to  his  original  Abbey  {jO^^s^.^^ 
of  Jumieges,  where  he  was  buried.     In  Vitalis's  ^J^ll'^^'j^' 
time  the  first  History  of  the  Abbey  was  writ-  f/g^^l^- 
ten  by  one  of  his  monks,  Sulcard.     Gislebert  ^^^l^^; 
was  the  author  of  various  scholastic  treatises,  ^60-7^*^' 
still  preserved  in  the  manuscripts  of  the  Cot-  nr^gi'. 
tonian  Library. ^   Then  followed  Laurence,  who  flgifi'^ob. 
procured  from  the  Pope  the  Canonisation  of 
the  Confessor,  and   with  it  the  exaltation  of   himself 
and  his  successors  to  the  rank  of  mitred  Abbot. 

Down  to  the  time  of  Henry  III.  the  Abbots  had 
been  buried  in  the  eastern  end  of  the  South  Cloister. 
Three  gravestones  still  remain,  with  the  rude  effigies 
of  these  as  yet  unmitred  dignitaries.^  But  afterwards 
— it  may  be  from  the  increasing  impor-  Papiiion, 
tance  of  the  Abbots  —  the  Cloisters  were  left  died  1223. 

Humez, 

to  the  humbler  denizens  of  the   Monastery.  1214-22. 

Berking, 

Abbot   Papiiion,   though   degraded   from   his  ]^^^^^ 
office  nine   years    before,  was  buried    in    the  i-'46-58. 
Nave.     Abbot  Berking  was  buried  in  a  marble  tomb 

1  Neale,  i.  .32. 

2  Flete  MS.  —  The  names  of  the  Abbots  were  inscribed  in  modern 
times,  but  all  wrongly.  That,  for  example,  of  Gervase,  who  was  buried 
under  a  small  slab,  was  written  on  the  largest  gravestone  in  the  Clois- 
ters. The  real  order  appears  to  have  been  this,  beginning  from  the 
eastern  corner  of  the  South  Cloister :  Postard  in  front  of  the  dinner- 
bell  ;  Crispin  and  Herbert  under  the  second  bench  from  the  bell ;  Vitalis 
(under  a  small  slab)  and  Gislebert  (with  an  effigy)  at  the  foot  of  Ger- 
vase (under  a  small  stone)  ;  Humez  (with  an  effigy)  at  the  head  of 
Gervase.  The  dinner-bell  probably  was  hung  in  what  was  afterwards 
known  as  Littlington's  Belfry. 

VOL.  II.  —  9 


130  THE  ABBEY.  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

before  tlie  High  Altar  in  the  Lady  Chapel/  then  just 
begun  at  his  instigation.  Crokesley,  who  succeeded, 
had  been  the  first  Archdeacon  of  Westminster,  and 
in  his  time  the  Abbey  was  exempted  from  all  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  See  of  London.  He  lived  in  an  alternation 
of  royal  shade  and  sunshine  —  sometimes  causing  the 
King  to  curse  him  and  declare,  'It  repenteth  me  that 
I  have  made  the  man  ; '  ^  and  send  criers  up  and  down 
the  streets  of  London  warning  every  one  against  him ; 
sometimes,  by  undue  concessions  to  him,  enraging  the 
other  convents,  almost  always  at  war  with  his  own. 
He  was  buried  first  in  a  small  Chapel  of  St.  Edmund 
near  the  North  Porch,  and  afterwards  removed  to  St. 
Nicholas's  Chapel,  and  finally,  in  Henry  VI.'s  time, 
to  some  other  place  not  mentioned.'^ 

The  exemption  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  See  of 
London  led  to  one  awkward  result.  It  placed  the 
Abbey  in  immediate  dependence  on  the  Papal  See,  and 
the  Abbots  accordingly  (till  a  commutation  and  com- 
pensation was  made  in  the  time  of  Edward  IV.)  were 

1  It  was  removed  when  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel  was  bnilt,  and  his 
grave  is  now  at  the  steps  leading  to  it.  The  grey  stone  and  brass  were 
visible  till  late  in  the  last  century.  (Crull,  p.  117  ;  Seymour's  Stow,  ii. 
613.) 

'■^  Matt.  Paris,  706,  726. 

3  Flete.  On  July  12,  1866,  in  making  preparations  for  a  new 
Reredos,  the  workmen  came  upon  a  marble  coffin  under  the  High 
Altar.  Fragments  of  a  crosier  in  wood  and  ivory,  and  of  a  leaden 
paten  and  chalice,  prove  the  body  to  be  that  of  an  Abbot ;  whilst  the 
absence  of  any  record  of  an  interment  on  that  spot,  and  the  fact  that 
the  coffin  was  without  a  lid,  and  that  the  bones  had  been  turned  over, 
show  that  this  was  not  the  original  grave  These  indications  point  to 
Crokesley.  From  a  careful  examination  of  the  bones,  he  appears  to 
have  been  a  personage  of  tall  stature,  slightly  halting  on  one  leg,  with 
a  strong  projecting  brow ;  and  the  knotted  protuberances  in  the  spine 
imply  that  he  had  suffered  much  from  chronic  rheumatism.  See  a 
complete  account  of  the  whole,  by  Mr.  Scharf,  in  the  Proceedings  of 
the  Society  of  Antiquaries,  2nd  series,  vol.  iii..  No.  5,  pp.  354-357- 


THE   NORMAX  ABBOTS.  131 

obliged  to  travel  to  Eome  for  their  confirmation,  and 
even  to  visit  it  once  every  two  years.     The  inconven- 
ience was  instantly  felt,  for  Crokesley's  sue-  Lewisham 
cessor,    Peter   of    Lewisham,  was    too  fat   to  ^'^^' 
move,  and  before  the  matter  could  be  settled  he  died. 
The  journey,  however,  was  carried  out  by  the  ^^re 
next  Abbot,  liichard  de  Ware,  and  with  mate-  ^-^^-^*- 
rial   results,  which  are   visible   to   tliis  day.     On    his 
second  journey,  in  1267,  he  brought  back  with  jjo^ajg 
him  the  mosaic  pavement  —  such  as  he  must  fro°n°Rome 
have  seen  freshly  laid  down  in  the  Church  of  ^  ^-"'^• 
San  Lorenzo  —  to  adorn  the  Choir  of  the  Church,  then 
just  completed   by  the  King.     It  remains  in  front  of 
the  Altar,  with  an  inscription,  in  part  still  decipherable, 
recording  the  date  of  its  arrival,  the  name  of  the  work- 
man who   put   it  together  (Oderic),  the  'City'  from 
whence  it  came,  and  the  name  of  himself  the  donor. 
He  was  buried  underneath  it,^  on  the  north  side.     As 
in  the  history  of  England  at  large,  the  reign  of  Henry 
III.  was  an  epoch  fruitful  of  change,  so  also  was  it  in 
the   internal   regulations    of    the   Abbey.     To   us   the 
thirteenth  century  seems  sufficiently  remote.     But,  at 
the  time,  everything  seemed  '  of  modern  use,'  so  start- 
ling were  the  '  innovations '  begun  by  Abbot  Berking, 
when  compared  with  the  ancient  practices  of  the  first 
Xorman  Abbots, '  Gislebert,'  and  his  brethren  '  of  vener- 
able memory.'  ^     To  Abbot  Ware,  accordingly,  was  due 
the  compilation  of   the  new  Code  of  the   Monastery, 
known  as  his  Consuetudines  or  '  Customs.'     Opposite  to 
Ware,  on  the  south  side,  lies  Abbot  Wenlock  Genlock 
who  lived  to  see  the  completion  of  the  work  ^^si-isos. 
of  Henry  III.,  and  who  shared  in  the  disgrace  (shortly 

^  His  stone  coffin  was  seen  there  in  1866. 

2  Ware,  pp.  257,  253,  261,  26-4,  291,  319,  344,  359,  495,  500. 


132   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

to  be  told)  of  the  robbery  of  the  Eoyal  Treasury. 
Kydyngton  ^^^^  profligate  manners  of  the  reign  of  Edward 
clirtHngton,  ^^-  ^cre  reflected  in  the  scandalous  election  of 
1315-1334.  Kydyngton/  ultimately  secured  by  the  influ- 
ence of  Piers  Gaveston  with  the  King.  He  was  suc- 
ceeded by  Curtlington,  who  was  a  rare  instance  of 
the  unanimous  election  of  an  Abbot  by  Pope,  King, 
jjg„]gy^  and  Convent.  His  grave  began  the  inter- 
1331-44.  inents  in  the  Chapel  of  the  patron  saint  of 
their  order  —  St.  Benedict.  But  his  successor,  Henley, 
lies  under  the  lower  pavement  of  the  Sacrarium,  oppo- 
site Kydyngton.  Then  occurs  the  one  exception  of 
a  return  to  the  Cloister.  The  Black  Death  fell  heavily 
on  Westminster.  The  jewels  of  the  convent  ^  had  to 
Byrchestou,  be  sold  apparently  to  defray  the  expenses. 
The  Black  Abbot  Byrclicston  and  twenty -six  monks  were 
1348.  its  Victims.     He  was  buried  in  the  Eastern 

Cloister,  which  he  had  built;  and  they  probably^  lie 
beneath  the  huge  slab  in  the  Southern  Cloister,  which 
has  for  many  years  borne  the  false  name  of  '  Gervase,' 
or  more  popularly  '  Long  Meg.'  If  this  be  so,  that  vast 
stone  is  the  footmark  left  in  the  Abbey  by  the  greatest 
plague  that  ever  visited  Europe. 

Langham  lies  by  the  side  of  Curtlington. 
LaTigham,  The  ouly  Abbot  of  Westminster  who  rose  to 
died  1376 ;  the  rank  of  Cardinal,  and  to  the  See  of  Canter- 
Eiy,  1362-      bury,  and  whose  departure  from  each  succes- 

66  *  Arch- 

bishop  of      sive  office  (from  Westminster  to  Ely,  and  from 

Canterbury,  ^ 

136W59;  Ely  to  Canterbury)  was  hailed  with  joy  by 
1368 ;  those  whom  he  left,  and  with  dread  by  those 

^  He  was  buried  before  the  altar,  under  the  southern  part  of  the 
lower  pavenment  where  the  Easter  candle  stood,  with  a  figure  in  brass. 
(Flete.) 

2  Cartulary,  1349.  »  Fuller's  Worthies,  ii.  114. 


THE   NORMAN   ABBOTS.  133 

whom  he  ioined — is  also  the  first  in  whom,  Lord  High 

''  .  Treasurer, 

as   far  as    we  know,  a  strong  local  affection  ^^^^^f"^' 
for  Westminster  had  an  opportunity  of  show-  ^^{i^g'^^^^*""- 
ing  itself.    His  stern  and  frugal  administration 
in  Westminster,  if  it  provoked  some  enmity  from  the 
older  monks,  won  for  him  the  honour  of  being  a  second 
founder  of  the  monastery.     To  the  Abbey,  where  he  had 
been  both  Prior  and  Abbot,  his  heart  always  turned. 
The  Nave,  where  his  father  was  buried,  had  continua- 

'  _       tion  of  the 

a  special  hold   upon   him,   and  through   his  Nave. 
means  it  first  advanced  towards  completion.^     In  the 
Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas  he  was  confirmed  in  the  Archie- 
piscopal  See ;  and  to  the  Chapel  of  St.  Benedict,  at  the 
close  of  his  many  changes,  he  begged  to  be  brought 
back  from  the  distant  Avignon,  where   he  died,  and 
was  there  laid  under  the  first  and  grandest  ecclesias- 
tical  tomb   that  the  Abbey   contains.     Originally^   a 
statue  of  Mary  Magdalene  guarded  his  feet.     He  had 
died  on  the  eve  of  her  feast.     It  was  from  the  enor- 
mous bequest  which  he  left,  amounting  in  our  reckon- 
ing to  £200,000,  that  his  successor,  Nicholas  Littungton, 
Littlington,  rebuilt  or  built  the  Abbot's  house  Nov. '29,'^'^ 
(the  present  Deanery,  where  his  head  appears  ^^^^' 
over  the  entrance),  part  of  the  Northern  and  the  whole 
of  the  Southern  and  Western  Cloisters  (where  jjj^  ^^^^^_ 
his  initials  are  still  ^  visible),  and  many  other  '"°*- 
parts  of  the  conventual  buildings  *  since  perished.     In 
Littlington's  mode  of   making  his  bargains  ^  for  these 
works   he  was  somewhat  unscrupulous.     But   he  was 
long  remembered  by  his  bequests.     In  the  Eefectory, 
to  which  he  left  silver  vessels,  a  prayer  for  his  soul 

1   Gleanings,  53.  -  Cartulary.  ^   Gleanings,  210. 

*  The  stone  came  from  the  quarries  of  Reigate.     (Archives.) 
5  Cartulary. 


134   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

was  always  repeated  immediately  after  grace."^  Of  his 
legacies  to  the  Chapter  Library,  one  magnificent  rem- 
nant exists  in  the  Littlington  Missal,  still  preserved. 
He  died  on  St.  Andrew's  ^  Eve,  '  at  dinner  time,'  at  his 
manor  of  Neate,  and  was  buried  before  the  altar  of 
St.  Blaize's  Chapel. 

We  trace  the  history  of  the  next  Abbots  in  the 
Colchester  Northcm  Chapels.  In  that  of  St.  John  the 
Hawerden,  Baptist  was  laid  the  'grand  conspirator,' ^ 
Kyrton,  '  William  of  Colchester,  who  was  sent  by  Henry 
Nonvkh,  IV->  with  sixty  horsemen  to  the  Council  of 
1466-69.  Constance,*  and  died  twenty  years  after  Shaks- 
peare  reports  him  to  have  been  hanged  for  his  treason ; 
Kyrton  lies  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Andrew,  which  he 
adorned  for  himself,  as  his  family  had  adorned  the  ad- 
joining altar  of  St.  Michael;^  Milling  —  raised 
Miiihvl  by  Edward  IV.  to  the  See  of  Hereford,  but  re- 
died"u92.  turning  to  his  old  haunts  to  be  buried  ^  —  and 
1474-98.'  Esteney,^  the  successive  guardians  of  Elizabeth 
1498-1500.      Woodville  and  her  royal  children,  in  the  Chapel 

1  Cartulary.  ^  E.steuey's  N'ifjer  Quaternar.  p.  86. 

3  Widmore,  p.  102;  Shakspeare's  Richard  II.  Act  v.  sc.  6.  The 
Prior  of  Westminster  had  already  had  a  vision  of  the  fall  of  Richard  II. 
(French  Chronicle  of  Richard  II.  139-224.) 

4  Widmore,  p.  HI  ;  Rymer,  v.  95.  William  of  Colchester  succeeded 
for  the  time  in  establishing  his  precedence  over  the  Abbot  of  St.  Al- 
bans :  and  it  has  been  conjectured  that  this  was  the  occasion  of  the 
portrait  of  Richard  II.  (Riley's  Preface  to  Walsingham's  Abbots  oj 
St.  Albans,  iii.  p.  Ixxv.)  5  Cartulary.     See  Appendix. 

6  Milling's  coffin  was  moved  from  the  centre  of  the  Chapel  to  make 
room  for  the  Earl  of  Essex's  grave  (see  Chapter  IV.),  to  its  present 
place  on  the  top  of  Fa.scet's  tomb.  In  1711  it  was  erroneously  called 
Humphrey  de  Bohun's.     (Crull,  p.  148.) 

7  Esteney  lay  at  the  entrance  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  John  the  Evan- 
gelist, behind  an  elaborate  screen.  The  body  was  twice  displaced  — 
in  1706  (when  it  was  seen)  and  in  1778,  when  the  tomb  was  demol- 
ished for  the  erection  of  Wolfe's  monument.  (Neale,  ii.  195.)  The 
fragments  were  reunited  in  1866. 


THE   PLANTAGENET  ABBOTS.  135 

of  St.  John  the  Evangelist.     During  this  time  Flete,  the 
Prior  of  the  Monastery,  wrote  its  meagre  his-  isiip,i5oo- 
tory.i     Fascet,  the  Abbot  who  saw  the  close  f^'/lf 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  was  interred  in  a  soli-  buikiLgs. 
tary  tomb  in  St.  Paul's  Chapel.^     Finally  Islip,  who 
had  witnessed  the  completion  of  the  east  end  of   the 
Abbey  by  the  building  of  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  him- 
self  built   the  Western  Towers  as    high  as  the  roof, 
filled   the  vacant  niches   outside   with  the  statues   of 
the   Sovereigns,  and    erected    the  apartments  and    the 
gallery  against  the  south  side  of  the  Abbey  by  which 
the  Abbot  could  enter  and  overlook  the  ISTave.     The 
larger   part  of   the   Deanery   buildings  subsequent  to 
Abbot  Littliiigton  seem  in  fact  to  have  been  erected 
in  his  time.     He   had  intended  to  attempt  a   Belfry 
Tower  over  the  central  lantern.^     In  the  elaborate  rep- 
resentation which  has  been  preserved  of  his  obsequies,* 
we  seem  to  be  following  to  their  end  the  funeral  of  the 
Middle  Ages.     We  see  him  standing  amidst  the  '  slips  ' 
or  branches  of  the   bower  of   moral  virtues,  Theisiip 
which,  according   to   the  fashion   of   the   fif-  ^°^^' 
teenth   century,  indicate   his  name ;    with  the  words, 
significant  of   his  character,^  'Seek   peace  and  pursue 
it.'     We    see    him,  as    he    last   appeared   in    state    at 
the  Coronation  of  Henry  VIII.,  assisting  Warham  in 
the  act,  so  fraught  with  consequences  for  all  the  future 

1  The  jrraves  of  Hawerden  and  Norwich  are  not  known. 

^  So  g,t  least  it  would  seem.  Tlie  tomb  was  subsequently  moved  to 
make  way  for  Sir  J.  Puckering's  monument,  and  placed  in  the  entrance 
to  St.  John  Baptist's  Chapel. 

3  Dart,  ii.  .34. 

*  See  the  Islip  Poll,  in  the  Library  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries  ; 
in  Vestiista  Monumpnto,  vol.  iv.  16-20;  and  Widmore,  p.  206.  The 
plate  left  by  him  remained  till  1.540  (Inventory). 

^  'A  good  old  father.'     Henry  VIII.     (State  Papers,  vii.  30.) 


136   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

history  of  the  English  Church  —  amidst  the  works 
of  the  Abbey,  which  he  is  carrying  on  with  all  tlic  en- 
ergy of  his  individual  character  and  with  the  strange 
exorcisms  of  the  age  which  was  drawing  to  its  close. 
We  see  him  on  his  deathbed,  in  the  old  manor-house 
of  Neate,  surrounded  by  the  priests  and  saints  of  the 
ancient  Church ;  the  Virgin  standing  at  his  feet,  and 
imploring  her  Son's  assistance  to  John  Islip  — '  Islip,  0 
Fill  venien?,  succiirre  Johanni  ! '  —  the  Abbot  of  Bury 
administering  the  last  sacraments.  We  see  his  splendid 
'hearse,'  amidst  a  forest  of  candles,  before  the  High 
Altar,  with  its  screen,  for  the  last  time  filled  with 
images,  and  surmounted  by  the  crucifix  with  its  atten- 
dant saints.  We  see  him,  as  his  effigy  lay  under  the 
tomb  in  the  little  chapel  which  he  had  built,^  like  a 
king,  for  himself,  recumbent  in  solitary  state  —  the  only 
Abbot  who  achieved  that  honour.  The  last  efflorescence 
of  monastic  architecture  coincided  with  its  imminent 
downfall ;  and  as  we  thus  watch  the  funeral  of  Islip, 
we  feel  the  same  unconsciousness  of  the  coming  changes 
as  breathes  though  so  many  words  and  deeds  and  con- 
structions on  the  eve  of  the  Reformation. 

Such  were  the  Abbots  of  Westminster.  It  seems 
ungrateful  to  observe,  what  is  yet  the  fact,  that  in  all 
their  line  there  is  not  one  who  can  aspire  to  higher  his- 
torical honour  than  that  of  a  munificent  builder  and 
able  administrator  :  Gislebert  alone  left  theological 
treatises  famous  in  their  day.  And  if  from  the  Abbots 
we  descend  to  the  monks,  their  names  are  still 
The  Monks.  ^^^^  obscurc.  Here  and'  there  we  catch  a 
trace  of  their  burials.  Amundisham,  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  Thomas  Brown,  Humphrey  Roberts,^  and  John 

1  This  chapel,  which  consists   of  an  upper  and   lower  story,  was 
called  the  Jesus  Chapel.  ^  Crull,  p.  211. 


THE   MONASTIC   LIFE.  137 

Selby  ^  of  Northumberland  (known  as  a  civilian),  in 
the  sixteenth  century,  are  interred  near  St.  Paul's 
Chapel ;  Vertue  in  the  Western  Cloister.^  Five  of  them 
—  Sulcard,  John  of  Eeading,  Flete  the  Prior,  Ptichard 
of  Cirencester,^  and  (on  a  somewhat  larger  scale)  the  so- 
called  Matthew  *  of  Westminster  —  have  slightly  con- 
tributed to  our  historical  knowledge  of  the  times.  Some 
of  them  were  skilled  as  painters.^  In  Abbot  Littling- 
ton's  time,  a  gigantic  brother,  whose  calves  and  thighs 
were  the  wonder  of  all  England,  of  the  name  of  John  of 
Canterbury,  emerges  into  view  for  a  moment,  having 
engaged  to  accompany  the  aged  Abbot  to  the  sea-coast, 
to  meet  a  threatened  French  invasion  which  never  took 
place.  They  obtained  the  special  permission  of  the 
Chapter  to  go  and  fight  for  their  country.  When  his 
armour  was  sold  in  London,  '  no  person  could  be  found 
of  a  size  that  it  would  fit,^  of  such  a  height  and  breadth 
was  the  said  John.'  There  are  two,  in  whose  case  we 
catch  a  glimpse  into  the  motives  which  brought  them 
thither.  Owen,  third  son  of  Owen  Tudor,  and  uncle  of 
Henry  VII.,  escaped  from  the  troubles  of  his  family  into 
monastic  life,  and  lies  in  the  South  Transept  in  the 
Chapel  of  St.  Blaize."  Another  was  Sir  John  Stanley, 
natural  son  of  James  Stanley,  Bishop  of  Ely  —  the  un- 
worthy stepson  of  j\Iargaret  of  Richmond.  A  dispute 
with  his  Cheshire  neighbours  had  brought  him  under 
Wolsey's  anger  ;  he  was  imprisoned  in  the  Fleet ;  and 

1  Weever,  p.  265.  2  gge  Chapter  IV. 

'  Seymour's  Stoir,  ii.  607. 

*  '  Matthew  of  Westminster's '  Chronicle  is  made  up  of  the  chronicle 
oi  Matthew  Paris  (whence  the  name),  of  St.  Albans,  and  a  continuation 
of  it  from  1265  to  1325,  by  John  Bevere,  otherwise  John  of  London,  a 
monk  of  Westminster.  (Maddeu's  Preface  to  Matthew  Paris,  vol.  i. 
pp.  XXV.  xxvi.) 

5  Cartulary.  ^  Ibid.  a.  d.  1286.  '  Sandford,  p.  293. 


138   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

after  his  release,  '  upon  displeasure  taken  in  his  heart, 
he  made  himself  a  monk  in  Westminster,  and  there 
died.'  ^  The  deed  still  remains  ^  in  which,  for  this 
purpose,  he  solemnly  affirmed  his  separation  from  his 
wife. 

The  insignificance  or  the  inactivity  of  this  great  com- 
munity, without  any  supposition  of  enormous  vices, 
The  explains  the  easy  fall  of  the  monasteries  when 

life.  the  hour  of   their   dissolution   arrived.     The 

garrulous  reminiscences  which  the  Sacristan  in  Scott's 
'  Monastery,'  retains  of  the  Abbot  '  of  venerable  mem- 
ory,' exactly  reproduce  the  constant  allusion  in  the 
thirteenth  century  which  we  find  in  the  '  Customs  of 
Abbot  Ware.'  The  very  designation  used  for  them  is 
the  same ;  their  deeds  moved  in  exactly  the  same  homely 
sphere.  The  trivial  matters  which  engross  the  attention 
of  Abbot  Ware  or  Prior  Flete  will  recall,  to  any  one 
who  has  ever  visited  the  sacred  peninsula  of  Mount 
Athos,  the  disputes  concerning  property  and  jurisdic- 
tion which  occupy  the  whole  thought  of  those  ancient 
communities.  The  Benedictine  Convent  of  Monte  Cas- 
sino  has  been  recently  saved  by  the  intervention  of  the 
public  opinion  of  Europe,  because  it  furnished  a  bright 
exception  to  the  general  tenor  of  monastic  life.  Those 
who  have  witnessed  the  last  days  of  Vallombrosa  must 
confess  with  a  sigh  that,  like  the  ancient  Abbey  of 
Westminster,  its  inmates  had  contributed  nothing  to 
the  general  intelligence  of  Christendom. 

It  is  to  the  buildings  and  institutions  of  the  monas- 
tery that  the  interest  of  its  mediaeval  history  attaches  ; 
and  these,  therefore,  it  must  be  our  endeavour  to  recall 

1  Herbert's  Henry  VHI.,  p.  300. 

■^  The  whole  story,  with  the  documeuts,  is  giveu  in  the  ArchcBo!o(jicul 
Journal,  vol.  xcvii.  pp.  72-84. 


POSSESSIONS  OF   THE   MONASTERY.  139 

from  the  dead  past.     It  would  be  wandering  too  far 
from  the  Abbey  itself  to  give  an  account  of  The^^^^.^ 
the  vast  possessions  scattered  not  only  over  estates. 
the  whole  of  the  present,  city  of  Westminster,  from  the 
Thames  to  Kensington,  or  from  Yauxhall   Bridge  to 
Temple  Bar,   but  through  97  towns  and  villages,  17 
hamlets,  and  216  manors,^  some  of  which  have  still  re- 
mained as  the  property  of  the  Chapter.     It  is  enough 
to  recall  the  vast  group  of  buildings  which  rose  round 
the  Abbey,  as  it  stood  isolated  from  the  rest  of  the 
metropolis,'  like  St.  Germain  des  Pres  at  Paris,  '  the 
Abbey  of  the  Meadows,'  in  its  almost  rural  repose. 

On    this   seclusion   of    the   monastic    precincts    the 
mighty  city  had,  even  into  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  but  very  slightly  encroached.     Their  Po-ssious 
southern  boundary  was  the  stream  which  ran  n-^^^''* 
down  what  is  now  College  Street,  then  '  the  minster, 
dead  wall '  ^  of  the  gardens  behind,  and  was  crossed  by  a 
bridge,  still  existing,  though  deep  beneath  the  present  ^ 
pavement,  at  the  east  end  of  College  Street.     Close  to 
it  was  the  southern  gateway  into  the  monastery.     The 
Abbots  used  to  take  boat  on  this  stream  to  go  to  the 
Thames,^  but  the  property  and  the  grounds  extended 
far  beyond.     The  Abbot's  Mill  stood  on  the  TheMUL 
farther  bank   of   the  brook,   called  the  Mill  ^^^ 
Ditch,   as   the   bank   itself  was   called  lUill-  ^-^-f^, 
lank. '   In  the  adjacent  fields  were  the  Orchard,  5;',:;.';^^ 
the  Vineyard,  and  the  Bowling  Alley,  which  hardens, 
have  left  their  traces  in  Orchard  Street,  Vine  Street, 

1  Westminster  Improvements,  11.     See  Dugdale's  Monasticon,  i.  297- 


307. 


'2  GVeam-n^s,  p.  229;   3ee  Gent.  Mag.   1836.- The  wall  was  puUcd 

down  in  1776. 

3    Westminster  Improvements,  p.  8.  ,    ,        , 

i  Archives;  Parcel  31,  Item  16.     Tliere  was  a  large  pond  close  by. 


140   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

and  Boiiiing  Street.^     Farther  still  were  the  Abbot's 
Gardens  and  the  Monastery  Gardens,  reaching  down 
to  the  river,  and  known  by  the  name  of  the  Minster 
Gardens,  which  gradually  faded  away  into  the  Monster 
Tea-gardens.^     Two  bridges  marked  the  course  of  the 
Eye  or  Tyburn   across  the   fields   to   the  north-west. 
One  was  the  Eye  Bridge,  near  the  Eye  Cross,  in  the 
island  ^  or  field  or  '  village  of  Eye  '  (Ey-bury) ; 
the  Knights'  auothcr  was  a  stone  bridge,  which  was  re- 
garded as  a  military  pass,"*  against  the  robbers 
who  infested  the  deep  morass  and  which  is  now  Bel- 
gravia.    Further  south  was  the  desolate  heath 

Tothill  o 

Fields.  Qf  Tothill  Fields.  The  name  is  derived  from 
a  high  hill,^  probably,  as  the  word  implies,  a  beacon, 
which  was  levelled  in  the  seventeenth  century.  At  its 
foot  was  Bulinga  Fen  —  the  '  Smithfield '  of  Western 
London  —  which  witnessed  the  burnings  of  witches, 
tournaments,  judicial  combats,  fairs,  bear-gardens,  and 
the  interment  of  those  who  had  been  stricken  by  the 
plague.*"  In  one  of  its  streams  the  ducks  disported 
themselves,  which  gave  their  name  to  Duck  Lane,^  now 
swept  away  by  Victoria  Street.  Another  formed  the 
boundary  between  the  parishes  of  St.  Margaret  and  St. 

1   Gkaninrjn,  p.  2.39.  2  iv,i,i.  p.  229. 

3  All  these  names  are  collected  in  the  '  Cartulary-' 

*  Hence  '  Knightshridge,'  either  from  Sir  II.  Knyvet,  Knight,  who 
there  valiantly  defended  himself,  there  being  assaulted,  'and  slew  the 
master-thief  with  his  own  hands.'  (Walcott,  p.  .300  )  Or,  as  Dean 
Milman  reports  the  tradition,  from  the  knights  who  there  met  the 
Abbot  returning  from  his  progresses  with  heavy  money  bags,  and  es- 
corted him  through  the  dangerous  jungle ;  or  '  Kimisbridge'  which, 
after  all,  appears  to  be  tlie  earlier  name  (see  Dare's  Memorials  oj 
Knight shridfje,  p.  4),  from  Edward  the  Confessor. 

^  See  the  petition  of  the  inhabitants  of  Westminster  in  1698,  in  the 
City  Archives,  given,  with  notes,  by  Mr.  Burtt  in  the  ArchceologicaL 
Journal,  No.  114,  p.  141. 

^  Walcott,  p.  325.  "^  Archmological  Journal,  p.  284. 


:ii|i]ijjjij|l|! 


POSSESSIONS   OF   THE   MONASTERY.  141 

John.^  A  shaggy  pool  deep  enough  to  drown  a  horse 
has  gradually  dwindled  away  into  a  small  puddle  and 
a  vast  sewer,  now  called  the  King's  Scholars'  Pond  and 
the  King's  Scholars'  Pond  Scvxr.  Water  was  conveyed  to 
the  Convent  in  leaden  pipes,  used  until  1861,  from  a 
spring^  in  the  Convent's  manor  of  Hyde  (now  Hyde  Manor. 
Hyde  Park).  The  manor  of  Keate,^  by  the  Manor. 
river-side  in  Chelsea,  was  a  favourite  country-seat  of 
the  Abbots.*     There  Littlington  and  Islip  died. 

On  the  north-east,  separated  from  the  Abbey  by  the 
long  reach  of  meadows,  in  which  stood  the   country 
villacre   of   Charimj,    w^as   another    enclosure,  Possessions 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Convent  Garden  north-east. 
—  or  rather,  in  Norman-French,  the  Convent  Garden, 
whence  the  present   form,   Covcnt   Garden  —  with  its 
grove  of  Elriis  and  pastures  of  Long  Acre,  and  covent 
of  the  Seven  Acres.^     For  the  convenience  of  *^^'''^"'- 
the  conventual  officers  going  from  Westminster  to  this 
garden,   a  solitary  oratory   or  chapel  was   erected  on 
the  adjacent  fields,  dedicated  to  St.  Martin.*^     This  was 
'  St.   Martin-in-the-Fields.'     The  Abbot  had  a  special 

1  Westminster  Improvements,  18. 

2  The  water  supply  continued  till  1861,  when  it  was  cut  off  by  the 
railways.  An  old  stone  house  over  the  spring  bore  the  arms  of  West- 
minster  till  1868,  when  it  was  supplanted  by  a  lesser  structure  with  a 
short  inscription. 

3  Cunningham's  London.  (The  Xeate  Houses.)  John  of  Gaunt 
borrowed  it  from  the  Abbot  for  his  residence  during  Parliament  (see 
Archaological  Journal,  No.  114,  p.  144). 

*  Hyde  and  Neate  were  exchanged  with  Henry  VIII.  for  Hurley. 
(Dugdale,  i.  282.)  But  the  springs  in  '  Crossley's  field  '  were  specially 
reserved  for  the  Abbey  by  the  Charter  of  Elizabeth  in  1560,  and  a 
conduit-house  built  over  them,  which  remained  till  1868.  The  water 
was  supposed  to  be  a  special  preservative  against  the  Plague.  ( State 
Papers,  May  22,  1631.) 

^  Brayley's  Londiniana,  iv.  207. 

6  Gent.  Mag.  [1826],  part  i.  p.  30. 


142   THE  ABBEY  BEFOKE  THE  REFORMATION. 

garden  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  just  where  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  city  of  Westminster  succeeded  to  those  of 
London,  opposite  to  the  town  residences  of  the  bishops 
of  Carlisle  and  Durham,  near  the  church  of  St.  Clement 
Danes,  called  the  '  Frere  Pye  Garden.'  ^  Beyond  this, 
again,  was  the  dependency  (granted  by  Henry  YII.)  of 
St.  Martin's-  ^hc  collegiatc  church  of  St.  Martin's-le-Grand. 
le-Grand.  rpj^^  Abbot  of  Westminster  became  the  Dean 
of  St.  Martin's-le-Grand,  and,  in  consequence  of  this 
connection,  its  inhabitants  continued  to  vote  in  the 
Westminster  elections  till  the  Eeform  Act  of  1832,''^ 
and  the  High  Steward  of  Westminster  still  retains  the 
title  of  High  Steward  of  St.  Martin's-le-Grand. 

From  this  side  the  Monastery  itself  was,  like  the 
great  temples  of  Thebes,  approached  by  a  continual 
succession  of  gateways ;  probably,  also,  by  a  consider- 
able ascent  ^  of  rising  ground.    Along  the  nar- 

King  street.  pit.         i   ttt        a  i        Tr-       > 

row  avenue  or  the  Koyal  Way*  —  the  Kmgs 
Street  —  underneath  two  stately  arches,  the  precincts 
of  the  Palace  of  Westminster  were  entered.  Close 
within  them  was  the  clock  tower,  containing  the  bell, 
which,  under  the  name  of  Great  Tom  of  Westminster, 
sounded  throughout  the  metropolis  from  the  west,  as 
now  from  its  new  position  in  the  east.^  The  Palace 
itself  we  leave  to  the  more  general  historians  of  West- 
minster. Then  followed  the  humbler  gateway  which 
opened  into  the  courtyard  of  the  Palace,  and  farther 

1  See  Archives  :  Parcel  31,  Item  5. 

2  Kempe's  Histori/  of  St.  Martin's-le-Grand,  and  see  Chapter  VI. 

3  The  present  ground  is  nine  feet  above  the  original  surface  of  the 
island.     (  Westminster  Improvements,  13.) 

*  When  the  King  went  to  Parliament,  faggots  were  thrown  into  the 
cart-ruts  of  King  Street  to  enable  the  state  coach  to  pass.  (  Westmin- 
ster Improvements,  19.)     See  Gent.  Mag.  2866,  pt.  i.  pp.  777,  778. 

6  See  Chapter  VI. 


^  m#r^*^'^^^^^^l^"^''^  *^  Mj^4 


OLD   GATEHOUSE    OF   THE    PRECINCTS,    WESTMINSTER. 
PULLKD   DOWN    IN    177G. 


THE   GATEHOUSE.  143 

west,  at  what  is  now  the  entrance  of  Tothill  Street, 
the  Gatehouse  or  Prison  ^  of  the  Monastery .^ 

The  Gatehouse  consisted  of  two  chambers  over  two 
arches,^  built  in  the  time  of  Edward  III.,  by  Walter  de 
Warfield,  the  cellarer  or  butler  of  the  Abbey.*  Its 
history,  though  belonging  to  the  period  after 

1         -r.    £■  •  .  .    }  ^     ,  The  Prison. 

the  Keiormation,  must  be  anticipated  here. 
It  was  then  that  whilst  one  of  the  chambers  became 
the  Bishop  of  London's  prison  for  convicted  clergy,  and 
for  Eoman  Catholic  recusants,^  the  other  acquired  a 
fatal  celebrity  as  the  public  prison  of  Westminster. 
Here  Ealegh  was  confined  on  the  night  before  ^^^^^-^ 
his  execution.  After  the  sentence  pronounced  oor'sg'"^'^' 
upon  him  in  the  King's  Bench  he  was  '  putt  ^^^^" 
into  a  very  uneasy^  and  unconvenient  lodging  in  the 
Gatehouse.'  He  was  conveyed  thither  from  West- 
minster Hall  by  the  Sheriff  of  Middlesex.  The  car- 
riage which  conveyed  him  wound  its  way  slowly 
through  the  crowds  that  thronged  St.  Margaret's 
Churchyard  to  see  him  pass  :  amongst  them  he  noticed 
his  old  friend  Sir  Hugh  Burton,  and  invited  him  to 
come  to  Palace  Yard  on  the  morrow  to  see  him  die. 
Weekes,  the  Governor  of  the  Gatehouse,  received  him 
kindly.  Tounson,  the  Dean  of  Westminster,  came  and 
prayed  with  him  a  while.^     The  Dean  was  somewhat 

^  Cartulary. 

2  There  is  a  drawing  of  it  in  the  Library  of  the  Society  of  Antiqua- 
ries.    (See  also  Walcott,  p.  273.) 

8  Cooper's  Plans,  1808.     (Soc.  Ant.  Lond.) 

*  Stow,  p.  1 76. 

^  The  Spanish  Ambassador  Gondomar  had  it  cleared  of  these  by 
order  of  James  I.  One  of  them  was  afterwards  canonised.  (Edwards's 
Life  of  Ralegh,  i.  693.) 

6  Public  Record  Office,  State  Papers  (Domestic),  James  I.,  vol.  ciii. 
No.  74.     St.  John's  Life  of  Ralegh,  ii.  343-369. 

■^  Tounson's  letter  in  Edwards's  Life  of  Ralegh,  ii.  489. 


144   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

startled  at  Ralegh's  high  spirits,  and  almost  tried  to 
persuade  him  out  of  them.  But  Ealegh  persevered, 
and  answered  that  he  was  '  persuaded  that  no  man 
that  knew  God  and  feared  Him  could  die  with  cheer- 
fulness and  courage,  except  he  was  assured  of  the  love 
and  favour  of  God  towards  him ;  that  other  men  might 
make  show,  but  they  felt  no  joy  within.'  Later  in  the 
evening  his  wife  came  to  him,  and  it  was  then  that, 
on  hearing  how  she  was  to  take  charge  of  his  body,  he 
replied,  '  It  is  well,  Bess,  that  thou  shouldest  have  the 
disposal  of  the  dead,  which  thou  hadst  not  always  the 
disposing  of,  living.'  Shortly  after  midnight  he  parted 
from  her,  and  then,  as  is  thought,  wrote  on  the  blank 
leaf  in  his  Bible  his  farewell  of  life  — 

Ev'n  such  is  Time,  that  takes  on  trust 
Our  youth,  our  joys,  our  all  we  have, 

And  pays  us  but  with  age  and  dust; 
Who  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 
When  we  have  wander'd  all  our  ways, 
Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  days. 

But  from  this  earth,  this  grave,  this  dust, 

The  Lord  shall  raise  me  up,  I  trust.^ 

After  a  short  sleep,  about  four  in  the  morning,  '  a 
cousin  of  his,  Mr.  Charles  Thynne,  coming  to  see  him. 
Sir  Walter,  finding  him  sad,  began  to  be  very  pleasant 
with  him  ;  whereupon  IVIr.  Thynne  counselled  him  :  Sir, 
take  heed  you  goe  not  too  muche  upon  the  brave 
hande ;  for  your  enemies  will  take  exceptions  at  that. 

1  '  Verses  said  to  have  been  found  in  his  Bible  in  the  Gatehouse  at 
Westminster '  — '  given  to  one  of  his  friends  the  night  before  his  suffer- 
ing.' (Ralegh's  Poems,  p.  729.)  Another  short  poem  is  also  said  to  be 
'  the  night  before  he  died :  ' 

Cowards  fear  to  die  ;  but  courage  stout, 
Rather  than  live  in  snuff,  will  be  put  out. 

The  well-known  poem,  called  his  '  Farewell,'  also  ascribed  to  this  night, 
had  already  appeared  in  1596.     (Ibid.  727-729.) 


THE   GATEHOUSE.  145 

Good  Charles  (quoth  he)  give  me  leave  to  be  mery,  for 
this  is  the  last  merriment  that  ever  I  shall  have  in  this 
worlde :  but  when  I  come  to  the  last  parte,  thou  shalte 
see  I  will  looke  on  it  like  a  man ;  —  and  so  he  was  as 
cTood  as  his  worde.'  At  five  Dean  Tounson  returned, 
and  again  prayed  with  him.  After  he  had  received  the 
Communion  he  '  was  very  cheerful  and  merry,  ate  his 
breakfast  heartily,'  'and  took  a  last  whiff  of  his  be- 
loved tobacco,  and  made  no  more  of  his  death  than  if 
he  had  been  to  take  a  journey.'  ^  Just  before  he  left 
the  Gatehouse  a  cup  of  sack  was  given  him.  '  Is  it  to 
your  liking?'  'I  will  answer  you,'  he  said,  'as  did 
the  fellow  who  drank  of  St.  Giles'  bowl  as  he  went  to 
Tyburn,  "  It  is  good  drink  if  a  man  might  but  tarry  by 
it.'"^  The  Dean  accompanied  him  to  the  scaffold. 
The  remaining  scenes  belong  to  Old  Palace  Yard,  and 
to  St.  Margaret's  Church,  where  he  lies  buried. 

Sir  John  Elliot,  who  certainly,  and  Hampden  prob- 
ably, had  in  boyhood  witnessed  Ealegh's  exe-  Hampden 
cution,  with  deep  emotion,  were  themselves  '*'"^^  '° ' 
his  successors  in  the  Gatehouse,  for  the  cause 
of  constitutional  freedom.^     To  it,  from  the  other  side, 
came  the  royalist  Lovelace,  and  there  wrote  his  lines  — 

Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage  ; 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 

That  for  an  hermitage. 
If  I  have  freedom  in  my  love, 

And  in  my  soul  am  free, 
Angels  alone,  that  soar  above, 

Enjoy  such  liberty. 

1  Edwards's  Ralerjh,  ii.  489.  He  said  on  the  scaffold  '  I  have  taken 
the  sacrament  with  Master  Dean,  and  have  forgiven  both  Stukeley  and 
the  Frenchman.'     (Ibid.  i.  701.) 

2  Edwards's  Ralegh,  i.  698.  ^  Forster's  Statesmen,  i.  18,  53. 

VOL.  II.  —  10 


14G   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

In  it,  Lilly,  the  astrologer,  found  himself  imprisoned 
immediately  after  the  Eestoration,  'upstairs 
where  there  was  on  one  side  a  company  of 
rude  swearing  persons,  on  the  other  side  many  Quakers, 
who  lovingly  entertained  him.'  ^  In  it  Sir  Geoffrey 
Hudson,  the  dwarf,  died,  at  the  age  of  sixty-three, 
Hudson.  under  suspicion  of  complicity  in  the  Popish 
Pepys.  Plot.^     In  it  the  indefatigable  Pepys,^  Collier, 

the  nonjuring  divine,  and  Savage  the  poet,  made  their 
Collier.  experience  of  prison  life.*  In  it,  according  to 
Savage.  his  owu  story.  Captain  Bell  was  incarcerated, 
Capt.  Bell,  and  translated  '  Luther's  Table  Talk,'  having 
'  many  times  begun  to  translate  the  same,  but  always 
was  hindered  through  being  called  upon  about  other 
businesses.  Thus,'  he  writes,  'about  six  weeks  after 
I  had  received  the  same  book,  it  fell  out  that  one  night, 
between  twelve  and  one  of  the  clock  ....  there  ap- 
peared unto  me  an  ancient  man,  standing  at  my  bed- 
side, arrayed  all  in  white,  having  a  long  and  broad 
white  beard  hanging  down  to  his  girdle,  who,  taking 
me  by  my  right  ear,  spoke  these  words  following  to 
me :  Sirrah,  will  you  not  take  time  to  translate  that 
book  which  is  sent  you  out  of  Germany?  I  will 
shortly  provide  for  you  both  place  and  time  to  do  it. 

And  then  he  vanished  away  out  of  my  sight 

Then,  about  a  fortnight  after  I  had  seen  that  vision, 
I  went  to  Whitehall  to  hear  the  sermon,  after  which 
ended,  I  returned  to  my  lodging,  which  was  then  in 
King  Street,  Westminster ;  and  sitting  down  to  dinner 
with  my  wife,  two  messengers  were  sent  from  the 
Privy  Council  Board,  with  a  warrant  to  carry  me  to 

1  Life  ofLilln,  p.  91.     Edwards's  Ralegh,  i.  699-715. 

2  lu  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  thQ  Gatehouse  is  confounded  with  Newgate. 

3  Evelyn,  iii.  297.  *    *  Johnson's  Poets,  iii.  309. 


THE  GATEHOUSE.  147 

the  Keeper  of  the  Gatehouse,  Westminster,  there  to  he 
safely  kept  until  further  order  from  the  hands  of  the 
Council  —  which  was  done,  without  showing  me  any 
cause  at  all  wherefore  I  was  committed.  Upon  which 
said  warrant  I  was  kept  there  ten  whole  years  close 
prisoner;  where  I  spent  five  years  thereof  in  translat- 
ing the  said  book,  insomuch  that  I  found  the  words 
very  true  which  the  old  man  in  the  foresaid  vision  did 
say  unto  me,  "  I  will  shortly  provide  for  you  both  place 
and  time  to  translate  it.'"^  The  Gatehouse  remained 
standing  down  to  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  The 
neighbourhood  was  familiar  with  the  cries  of  the  keeper 
to  the  publican  opposite,  '  Jackass,  Jackass,'  for  gin  for 
the  prisoners.  It  was  pulled  down  in  1777,  a  victim 
to  the  indignation  of  Dr.  Johnson.  One  of  its  arches, 
however,  was  still  continued  in  a  house  which  was  as 
late  as  1839  celebrated  as  having  been  the  abode  of 
Edmund  Burke.^ 

The  office  of  Keeper  of  the  Gatehouse  was  in  the  gift 
of  the  Dean  and  Chapter.  Perhaps  the  most  remark- 
able '  Keeper '  w^as  Maurice  Pickering,  who,  in  Keeper  of 

^  "  the  Gate- 

a  paper  addressed  to  the  Lord  Treasurer  Bur-  house. 
leigh,  in  1580,  says  :  'My  predecessor  and  my  wief  and 
I  have  kept  this  offis  of  the  Gatehouse  this  XXII I. 
yeres  and  upwards.'  He  was  considered  a  great  man 
in  Westminster,  and  in  official  documents  he  was  styled 
'Maurice  PickerinsT,  gentleman.'     At  one  time  Maurice 

°    °  Pickering, 

he  and  his  wife  are  mentioned  as  dining  at  a  isso. 
marriage-feast  at '  His  Grace  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Koch- 
ester's,  in  Westminster  Close,'  and  at  another  as  sup- 
ping with  Sir  George  Peckham,  Justice  of  the  Peace. 

1  Southey's  Doctor,  vii.  354-3.56. 

2  Westminster  Improvements,  55.  The  order  for  its  removal  is  in  the 
Chapter-Book,  July  10,  1776. 


148   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

On  another  occasion,  when  suppmg  with  Sir  George  he 
foolishly  let  out  some  of  the  secrets  of  his  office  in  chat- 
ting with  Lady  Peckham  (the  Gatehouse  at  that  time 
was  full  of  needy  prisoners  for  religion's  sake,  whose 
poverty  had  become  notorious).  '  He  told  her  Ladyship, 
in  answer  to  a  question  she  asked  him.  Yea,  I  have 
many  poor  people  for  that  cause  (meaning  religion), 
and  for  restraiute  (poverty)  of  their  friends  I  fear  they 
will  starve,  as  I  have  no  allowance  for  them.  For  this 
Master  Pickering  was  summoned  before  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, examined  by  the  Judges,  and  severely  repri- 
manded ; '  upon  which  he  sent  a  most  humble  and 
sorrowful  petition  to  Lord  Burleigh,  '  praying  the  com- 
fort of  his  good  Lord's  mercy '  in  the  matter,  and  pro- 
testing that  he  had  ever  prayed  for  '  the  prosperous 
reign  of  the  Queene,  who  hath  defended  us  from  the 
tearinge  of  the  Devill,  the  Poope,  and  all  his  ravening 
wollves.'  The  Privy  Council  appears  to  have  taken  no 
further  notice  of  the  matter,  except  to  require  an  occa- 
sional return  of  the  prisoners  in  the  Gatehouse  to  the 
Justices  of  the  Peace  assembled  at  Quarter  Sessions.^ 
In  the  year  of  the  Armada,  Pickering  pre- 
sented to  the  Burgesses  of  Westminster  a  fine 
silver-gilt  'standing-cup,'  which  is  still  used  at  their 
feasts,  the  cover  (the  gift  of  his  wife)  being  held  over 
the  heads  of  those  who  drink.  It  has  the  quaint 
inscription  — 

The  Giver  to  liis  Brother  wisheth  peace, 

With  Peace  he  wisheth  Brother's  love  on  earth, 
Which  Love  to  seal,  I  as  a  pledge  am  given, 

A  standing  Bowie  to  be  used  in  mirthe. 

The  gift  of  Maurice  Pickering  and  Joan  his  wife,  1588. 

1  I  owe  this  iuformation  to  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Trollope,  Town 
Clerk  of  Westminster. 


THE   SANCTUARY.  149 

Passing  the  Gatehouse  and  returning  from  this  anti- 
cipation of  distant  times,  we  approach  the  Sanctuary. 
The  right  of  '  Sanctuary '  was  shared  by  the  ^^^  g^^^_ 
Abbey  with  at  least  thirty  other  great  English  *^^^''^'- 
monasteries  ;  ^  but  probably  in  none  did  the  building 
occupy  so  prominent  a  position,  and  in  none  did  it  play 
so  important  a  part.  The  grim  old  Norman  fortress,^ 
which  was  still  standing  in  the  seventeenth  century,  is 
itself  a  proof  that  the  right  reached  back,  if  not  to  the 
time  of  the  Confessor,  at  least  to  the  period  when  addi- 
tional sanctity  was  unparted  to  the  whole  Abbey  by 
his  canonisation  in  1198.  The  right  professed  to  be 
founded  on  charters  of  King  Lucius,'^  and  continued,  it 
was  believed,  till  the  time  of  '  the  ungodly  King  Vorti- 
gern.'  It  was  then,  as  was  alleged,  revived  by  Sebert, 
and  sanctioned  by  the  special  consecration  by  St.  Peter, 
whose  cope  was  exhibited  as  the  very  one  which  he 
had  left  behind  him  on  the  night  of  his  interview  with 
Edric,  and  as  a  pledge  (like  St.  Martin's  cope  in  Tours) 
of  the  inviolable  sanctity  of  his  monastery.^  Again,  it 
w^as  supposed  to  have  been  dissolved  '  by  the  cursed 
Danes,'  and  revived  '  by  the  holy  king  St.  Edward,'  who 
had  '  procured  the  Pope  to  call  a  synod  for  the  estab- 
lishing thereof,  wherein  the  breakers  thereof  are  doomed 
to  perpetual  fire  with  the  betrayer  Judas.'  Close  by 
was  a  Belfry  Tower,^  built  by  Edward  III.,  in  which 
hung  the  Abbey  Bells,  which  remained  there  till  Wren 
had  completed  the  Western  Towers,  and  which  rang 

1  Arch.  viii.  41. 

'•^  Described  in  Arcfifvolog.  i.  35 ;  Maitland's  Land.  (Entinck),  ii.  134 ; 
Gleaninrjs,  p.  228;  Walcott,  p.  81. 

3  Eiilog.  iii.  346  ;  More's  Life  of  Richard  III.,  p.  40;  Kennet,  i.  491. 

*  Neale,  i.  55;  Dart  (App  ),  p.  17.     See  Chapter  I. 

5  Where  now  stands  the  Guildhall,  built  1805.  (Widmore,  p.  11 ; 
Gleanings,  p.  228;  Walcott,  p.  82.) 


150   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

for  coronations  and  tolled  for  royal  funerals.  'Their 
ringings,  men  said,  soured  all  the  drink  in  the  town.' 
The  building,  properly  so  called,  included  two  churches, 
an  upper  and  a  lower,  which  the  inmates  were  expected, 
as  a  ^  kind  of  penance,  to  frequent.  But  the  right  of 
asylum  rendered  the  whole  precinct  a  vast  '  cave  of 
Adullam'  for  all  the  distressed  and  discontented  of  the 
metropolis  who  desired,  according  to  the  phrase  of  the 
time,  '  to  take  Westminster.'  Sometimes,  if  they  were 
of  higher  rank,  they  established  their  quarters  in  the 
great  Northern  Porch  of  the  Abbey,  with  tents  pitched, 
and  guards  watching  round,  for  days  and  nights 
together.^  Sometimes  they  darted  away  from  their  cap- 
tors, to  secure  the  momentary  protection  of  the  conse- 
crated ground.  '  Thieving '  or  '  Thieven  '  ^  Lane  was 
the  name  long  attached  to  the  winding^  street  at  the 
back  of  the  Sanctuary,  along  which  '  thieves  '  were  con- 
ducted to  the  prison  in  the  Gatehouse,  to  avoid  these 
untoward  emancipations  if  they  were  taken  straight 
across  the  actual  precincts.^  One  such  attempt  is  re- 
corded a  short  time  before  the  Dissolution.  In  1512,  a 
sturdy  butcher  of  the  name  of  Briggs,  in  trying  to  res- 
cue Eobert  Kene  '  while  being  conveyed  to  the  Gate- 
houst,'  w\as  killed  by  Maurice  Davy  the  constable.^ 
Sometimes  they  occupied  St.  Martin 's-le-Grand  (which, 
after  the  time  of  Henry  VII.,  was,  by  a  legal  fiction, 
reckoned  part  of  the  Abbey "),  thus  making  those  main 

1  It  is  also  said  that  one  object  of  St.  IVIargaret's  Church  was  to 
relieve  the  south  aisle  of  the  Abbey  from  this  dangerous  addition  to 
the  worshippers.     (  Westminster  Improvements,  10.) 

2  Capgrave's  Chron.,  p.  298  ;  Walsingham,  ii.  285. 

3  The  ancient  plural  of '  Thieves.'    See  Westminster  Improvements,  25 
*  Hence  called  Bow  Street.     (Walcott,  p.  70.) 

5  Smith,  p.  27.  6  gtate  Papers,  H.  VIII.  3509. 

'  Stow,  p.  615. 


THE   SANCTUARY.  151 

refuges  '  one  at  the  elbow  of  the  city,  the  other  in  the 
very  bowels.'  '  I  dare  well  avow  it,  weigh  the  good  that 
they  do  with  the  hurt  that  cometh  of  them,  and  ye 
shall  find  it  much  better  to  lack  both  than  have  both. 
And  this  I  say,  although  they  were  not  abused  as  they 
now  be,  and  so  long  have  been,  that  I  fear  me  ever  they 
will  be,  while  men  be  afraid  to  set  their  hands  to  the 
amendment ;  as  though  God  and  St.  Peter  were  the 
patrons  of  ungracious  living.  Now  unthrifts  riot  and 
run  in  debt  upon  the  boldness  of  these  places  ;  yea,  and 
rich  men  run  thither  with  poor  men's  goods.  There 
they  build,  there  they  spend  and  bid  their  creditors  go 
whistle  for  them.  Men's  wives  run  thither  with  their 
husbands'  plate,  and  say  they  dare  not  abide  with  their 
husbands  for  beating.  Thieves  bring  thither  their 
stolen  goods,  and  there  live  thereon.  There  devise  they 
new  robberies:  nightly  they  steal  out,  they  rob  and 
reave,  and  kill,  and  come  in  again  as  though  those 
places  gave  them  not  only  a  safeguard  for  the  harm 
they  have  done,  but  a  licence  also  to  do  more.  How- 
beit  much  of  this  mischief,  if  wise  men  would  set  their 
hands  to  it,  might  be  amended,  with  great  thank  of 
God,  and  no  breach  of  the  privilege.' ^ 

Such  was  the  darker  side  of  the  institution.  It  had, 
doubtless,  a  better  nucleus  round  which  these  turbulent 
elements  gathered.  If  often  the  resort  of  vice,  it  was 
sometimes  the  refuge  of  innocence,  and  its  inviolable 
character  provoked  an  invidious  contrast  with  the  ter- 
rible outrage  which  had  rendered  Canterbury  Cathedral 
the  scene  of  the  greatest  historical  murder  of  our  annals. 

1  Speech  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  in  Sir  T.  More's  Life  of 
Richard  III.  vol.  ii.  p.  80.  It  is  probably  a  dramatic  speech  put  into 
the  mouth  of  a  hostile  witness ;  but  it  serves  to  show  what  were  re- 
garded  as  notorious  facts  in  More's  time. 


152   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

In  fact,  the  jealous  sensitiveness  of  the  Chapter  of 
Canterbury  had  given  currency  to  a  prediction  that  the 
blood  of  Becket  would  never  be  avenged  till  a  similar 
sacrilege  defiled  the  walls  of  Westminster.^  At  last  it 
came,  doubtless  in  a  very  inferior  form,  but  creating  a 
powerful  sensation  at  the  time,  and  leaving  permanent 
traces  behind. 

During  the  campaign  of  the  Black  Prince  in  the 
North  of  Spain,  two  of  his  knights,  Shackle  and  Hawle, 
had  taken  prisoner  a  Spanish  Count.  He  returned 
home  for  his  ransom,  leaving  his  son  in  his  place.  The 
ransom  never  came,  and  the  young  Count  continued 
in  captivity.  He  had,  however,  a  powerful  friend  at 
Court  —  John  of  Gaunt,  who,  in  right  of  his  wife, 
claimed  the  crown  of  Castile,  and  in  virtue  of  this 
Spanish  royalty  demanded  the  liberty  of  the  young 
Spaniard.  The  two  English  captors  refused  to  part 
with  so  valuable  a  prize.  John  of  Gaunt,  with  a  high 
hand,  imprisoned  them  in  the  Tower,  whence  they  es- 
caped and  took  sanctuary  at  Westminster.  They  were 
Murder  of     pursucd  by  Alan  Bloxhall,  Constable  of  the  ^ 

Hawle,  Aug.    jL, 

11, 1378.  Tower,  and  Sir  Ealph  Ferrers,  with  fifty 
armed  men.^  It  was  a  day  long  remembered  in  the 
Abbey  — the  11th  of  August,  the  festival  of  St.  Tauri- 
nus.  The  two  knights,  probably  for  greater  security, 
had  fled  not  merely  into  the  Abbey,  but  into  the  Choir 
itself.  It  was  the  moment  of  the  celebration  of  High 
jNIass.  The  Deacon  had  just  reached  the  words  of  the 
Gospel  of  the  day,  '  If  the  goodman  of  the  house  had 
known  what  time  the  thief  would  appear,'  *  when  the 
clash  of  arms  was  heard,  and  the  pursuers,  regardless 
of  time  or  place,  burst  in  upon  the  service.     Shackle 

^  Walsingham,  ii.  378.  2  i}^[^_ 

3  Widmore,  p.  104.  *  Eulog.  Hist.  iii.  342,  343. 


THE   SANCTUARY.  153 

escaped,  but  Hawle  was  intercepted.  Twice  he  fled 
round  the  Choir,  his  enemies  hacking  at  him  as  he  ran, 
and  at  length,  pierced  with  twelve  wounds,^  sank  dead 
in  front  of  the  Prior's  Stall,  that  is,  at  the  north  side  of 
the  entrance  of  the  Choir.^  His  servant  and  one  of 
the  monks  fell  with  him.^  He  was  regarded  as  a  mar- 
tyr to  the  injured  rights  of  the  Abbey,  and  obtained  the 
honour  (at  that  time  unusual)  of  burial  within  its  walls 
—  the  first  who  was  laid,  so  far  as  we  know,  in  the 
South  Transept,  to  be  followed  a  few  years  later  by 
Chaucer,  who  was  interred  at  his  feet.  A  brass  effigy 
and  a  long  epitaph  marked,  till  within  the  last  century, 
the  stone  where  he  lay,*  and  another  inscription  was 
engraved  on  the  stone  where  he  fell,  and  on  which  his 
effioy  may  still  be  traced.     The  Abbey  was  The  Abbey 

OJ  J  "  reopened 

shut  up  for  four  months,^  and  Parliament  was  Dec.  s,  isos. 
suspended,  lest  its  assembly  should  be  polluted  by  sit- 
ting within  the  desecrated  precincts,  and  from  the 
alleged  danger  of  London.^  The  whole  case  was  heard 
before  the  king.  The  Abbot,  William  of  Colchester, 
who  speaks  of  '  the  horrible  crime ' "  as  an  act  which 
every  one  would  recognise  under  that  name,  recited  the 
whole  story  of  St.  Peter's  midnight  visit  to  the  fisherman,^ 
as  the  authentic  ground  of  the  right  of  sanctuary ;  and 
carried  his  point  so  far  as  to  procure  from  the  Arch- 
bishops and  Bishops  an  excommunication  of  the  two 
chief  assailants  —  which  was  repeated  every  Wednes- 
day and  Friday  by  the  Bishop  of  London  at  St.  Paul's 
—  and  the  payment  of  £200  from  them  (equal  to  at 

1  Widmore,  p.  104.  ^  Brayley,  p.  258. 

3  Weever,  p.  261.  *  Neale,  ii.  269. 

5  Widmore,  p.  106.     Cartulary.  ^  Brayley,  p.  259. 

"  'lUud  factum  horribile.'  (Archives,  Parcel  41.) 
8  Eulog.  iii.  346.     See  Chapter  I. 


154      THE   ABBEY   BEFORE   THE   REFORMATION. 

least  £2,000)  to  the  Abbey  by  way  of  penance.  On  the 
other  hand,  Shackle  ^  gave  up  his  Spanish  prisoner,  who 
had  waited  upon  him  as  his  valet,  but  not  without  the 
remuneration  of  500  marks  in  hand  and  100  for  life;^ 
and  the  extravagant  claims  of  the  Abbot  led  (as  often 
happens  in  like  cases)  to  a  judicial  sifting  of  the  right 
of  sanctuary,  which  from  that  time  forward  was  refused 
in  the  case  of  debtors.^ 

This  tremendous  uproar  took  place  in  the  early  years 
of  Eichard  II.,  and  perhaps  was  not  without  its  effect 
in  fixing  his  attention  on  the  Abbey,  to  which  he  after- 
wards showed  so  much  devotion.*  Another  sacrilege 
of  the  like  kind  took  place  nearly  at  the  same  time,  but 
seems  to  have  been  merged  in  the  general  horror  of  the 
events  of  which  it  formed  a  part.  At  the  time  of  the  re- 
outrage  of     bcllion  of  Wat  Tyler,  John  Mangett,  Marshal 

Wat  Tvler 

1381.  ■  '  of  the  Marshalsea,  had  clung  for  safety  to  one 
of  the  slender  marble  pillars  round  the  Confessor's  Shrine, 
and  was  torn  away  by  Wat  Tyler's  orders.^  The  King, 
with  his  peculiar  feeling  for  the  Abbey,  immediately 
sent  to  inquire  into  the  act.  Within  the  precincts, 
close  adjoining  to  St.  Margaret's  Church,  was  a  tene- 
ment known  by  the  name  of  the  '  Anchorite's  House.'  ^ 

1  He  himself  seems  to  have  been  buried  iii  the  Abbey,  1396.  (Stow, 
p.  614.) 

2  Widmore,  p.  106.  ^  Walsinghara,  i.  .378. 

4  See  Chapter  III.  In  addition  to  the  proofs  of  Richard  II. 's  in- 
terest in  the  Abbey  there  mentioned,  may  be  given  the  foHowing 
curious  incidents.  The  anniversary  of  his  coronation  was  celebrated 
at  the  altar  of  St.  John  as  long  as  he  lived,  139.5.  He  sent  a  portion 
of  the  cloth  of  gold,  with  50  points  of  gold,  in  which  the  Confessor  was 
wrapt,  to  his  uncle  the  Duke  of  Berry,  139".  His  flight  and  deposition 
are  carefully  recorded  in  1399.  (Cartulary.)  The  name  of  the  maker 
of  the  mould  of  the  statues  of  himself  and  his  queen  —  William 
Wodestreet  —  in  1394,  is  preserved.     (lb.)  ^  Brayley,  p.  i266. 

•5  Chapter  Book,  May  10,  1604. — It  occurs  in  other  entries  as  the 
Anchor's  House.     Its  last  appearance  is  in  the  Chapter  Book,  June  3, 


THE   SANCTUARY.  155 

Here,  as  often  in  the  neighbourhood  of  great  conventual 
buildings,  dwelt,  apparently  from  generation  to  gene- 
ration, a  hermit,  who  acted  as  a  kind  of  oracle  to  the 
neighbourhood.  To  him,  as  afterwards  Henry  V.,  so 
now  Eichard  II.  resorted,  and  encouraged  by  his  coun- 
sels, went  out  on  his  gallant  adventure  to  Smithfield, 
where  his  presence  suppressed  the  rebellion.^ 

A  more  august  company  took  refuge  here  in  the  next 
century.  Elizabeth  Woodville,  Queen  of  Edward  IV., 
twice  made  the  Sanctuary  her  home.  The  pi,.st  visit 
first  time  was  just  before  the  birth  of  her  woS'il"' 
eldest  son.  On  this  occasion  she,  with  her  '^''^-  ^'  ^^''^■ 
three  daughters  and  Lady  Scrope,  took  up  their  abode 
as  '  sanctuary  women,'  apparently  within  the  Sanctuary 
itself.  The  Abbot  (Milling)  sent  them  provisions  — 
'  half  a  loaf  and  two  muttons '  —  daily.     The  girth  of 

■^  Edward  v., 

nurse  in  the  Sanctuary  assisted  at  the  birth,  ^'o^.  i4,u7o. 
and  in  these  straits  Edward  V.  first  saw  the  light ;  and 
was  baptized  by  the  Sub-prior,  with  the  Abbot  as  his 
godfather,  and  the  Duchess  of  Bedford  and  Lady  Scrope 
as  his  godmothers.^  The  Queen  remained  there  till  her 
husband's  triumphant  entry  into  London.  The  second 
occasion  was  yet  more  tragical.  When  ^^^^^^  ^^^^-^^ 
Eichard  III.'s  conspiracy  against  his  nephews  wcfodvmt^ 
transpired,  the  Queen  again  flew  to  her  well-  ^^'"''  ^^''^' 
known  refuge  —  with  her  five  daughters,  and,  this  time, 
not  with  her  eldest  son  (who  was  already  in  the  tower), 
but  with  her  second  son,  Eichard  Duke  of  York.     She 

1778.  One  of  the  hermits  who  lived  here  — perhaps  this  very  one,  was 
buried  in  his  own  chapel.  (Cartulary,  see  p.  431.)  There  was  a  her- 
mit of  the  same  kind  in  the  precincts  at  Norwich.  They  were  also 
common  in  Ireland.  The  remains  of  such  a  hermitage  exist  close  to 
the  Cathedral  of  Kilkenny.  See  Graves's  Kilkenm/,  p.  7  ;  Arch.  Journal^ 
xi.  194-200;  Kingsley's /TerMjfj. 

1  Howe's  Chronicle,  p.  284.  ^  Strickland,  iii.  328. 


156   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

crossed  from  the  Palace  at  midnight,  probably  through 
the  postern-gate,  into  the  'Abbot's  Place.'     It  was  in 
one  of  the  great  chambers  of  the  house,  probably  the 
Dining-hall  (now  the  College  Hall),  that  she  was  re- 
ceived  by  Abbot   Esteney.^     There   the   Queen    'sate 
alone  on  the  rushes,  all  desolate  and  dismayed,'  and  all 
'  about  her  much  heaviness,  rumble,  haste,  and  business ; 
carriage  and  conveyance  of  her  stuff  into  Sanctuary; 
chests,  coffers,  packers,   fardels,  trussed  all  on  men's 
backs  ;  no  man  unoccupied  —  some  lading,  some  going, 
some  discharging,  some  coming  for  more,  some  breaking 
down  the  walls   to  bring  in   the  next  way.'     In  this 
scene  of  confusion  appeared  Eotheram,  Archbishop  of 
York,  who  deposited  with  her  the  Great  Seal,  'and 
departed  hence  again,  yet  in  the  dawning  of  the  day. 
By  which   time   he  might,   in    his   chamber   window' 
[from  his  palace  on  the  site  of  the  present  Wliitehall] 
'  see  all  the  Thames  full  of  boats  of  the  Duke  of  Glouces- 
ter's servants,  watching  that  no  man  should  pass  to  the 
Sanctuary.'     The  Queen,  it  would  seem,  had  meantime 
withdrawn  into   the  fortress  of   the  Sanctuary  itself, 
where,  as  she  said,  '  her  other  son,  now  King,  was  born 
and  kept  in  his  cradle ; '   and  there  she  received  the 
southern  Primate,  Cardinal  Bourchier.     It  is  instructive 
to  observe  how  powerful  the  terrors  of  the  Sanctuary 
were  in  the  eyes  both  of  besiegers  and  besieged.     The 
King  would  have  taken  his  nephew  by  force  from  the 
Sanctuary,  but  was  met  by  the  two  Archbishops  with 
the  never-failing  argument  of  St.  Peter's  visit  to  the 
fisherman,   'in   proof   whereof  they  have   yet   in   the 
Abbey  St.  Peter's  cope  to  show.'^    At  last,  howevQr, 
even  this  was  believed  to  have  been  turned  by  some 

1  His  effigy,  copied  from  his  tomb,  now  hangs  in  the  HalL 

2  Mere's  Life  of  Edward  V.,  p.  40. 


THE   SANCTUARY.  157 

ingenious  casuist,  who  argued  that,  as  the  child  was 
incapable  of  such  crimes  as  needed  sanctuary,  so  he  was 
incapable  of  receiving  sanctuary.  The  Queen  resisted 
with  all  the  force  of  a  woman's  art  and  a  mother's  love. 
'  In  what  place  could  I  reckon  him  secure  if  he  be  not 
secure  in  this  Sanctuary,  whereof  was  there  never  yet 
tyrant  so  devilish  that  durst  presume  to  break  ?  .  .  .  . 
But,  you  say,  my  son  can  deserve  no  sanctuary,  and 
therefore  he  cannot  have  it.  Forsooth  he  hath  found 
a  goodly  gloss,  by  which  that  place  that  may  defend  a 

thief  may  not  save  an  innocent I  can  no  more, 

but  whosoever  he  be  that  breaketh  this  holy  sanctuary, 
1  pray  God  shortly  send  him  need  of  sanctuary,  when 
he  may  not  come  to  it !  For  taken  out  of  sanctuary 
I  would  not  my  mortal  enemy  were.' 

The  argument  of  the  ecclesiastic,  however,  at  last 
prevailed.  'And  therewithal  she  said  to  the  child, 
"  Farewell,  mine  own  sweet  son ;  God  send  you  good 
keeping  !  Let  me  kiss  you  once,  ere  you  go ;  for  God 
knoweth  when  we  shall  kiss  one  another  again."  And 
therewith  she  kissed  him  and  blessed  him,  turned  her 
back,  and  went  her  way,  leaving  the  child  weeping  as 
fast'  1  She  never  saw  her  sons  again.  She  was  still 
in  the  Sanctuary  when  she  received  the  news  of  their 
death,  and  ten  months  elapsed  before  she  and  the  Prin- 
cesses left  it.  The  whole  precinct  was  strictly  guarded 
by  Eichard ;  so  that  '  the  solemn  Church  of  West- 
minster and  all  the  adjacent  region  was  changed  after 
the  form  of  a  camp  or  fortress.' 

At  the  same  moment,  another  child  of  a  princely 
house  was  in  the  monastery,  also  hiding  from  the  terror 

1  Strickland's  Queens,  iii.  331,  348,  355,  377  ;  Green's  Princesses,  iii. 
413. 


158   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

of  the  '  Boar.'     Owen  Tudor,  the  uncle  of  Henry  VII., 
had  himself  been  sheltered  in  the  Sanctuary 

Owen  "^ 

Tudor.  JQ  tihe  earlier  days  of  the  York  dynasty,  was 

now  there  as  a  monk,  and  was  buried  at  last  in  St. 
Blaise's  Chapel. 

The  last  eminent  person  who  received  the  shelter  of 
the  Sanctuary  fled  thither  from  the  violence,  not  of 
Princes,  but  of  Ecclesiastics.  Skelton,  the 
earliest  known  Poet  Laureate,  from  under  the 
wing  of  Abbot  Islip,  poured  forth  against  Cardinal 
Wolsey  those  furious  invectives,  which  must  have 
doomed  him  to  destruction  but  for  the  Sanctuary, 
impregnable  even  by  all  the  power  of  the  Cardinal  at 
the  height  of  his  grandeur.  No  stronger  proof  can  be 
found  of  the  sacredness  of  the  spot,  or  of  the  indepen- 
dence of  the  institution.  He  remained  here  till  his 
death,!  and,  like  Le  Sueur  in  the  Chartreuse  at  Paris, 
rewarded  his  protectors  by  writing  the  doggerel  epitaphs 
which  were  hung  over  the  royal  tombs,  and  which  are 
preserved  in  most  of  the  older  antiquarian  works  on 
the  Abbey. 

The  rights  of  the  Sanctuary  were  dissolved  with  the 
dissolution  of  the  Abbey.  Abbot  Feckenham,  as  we 
End  of  the  shall  scc,  made  a  vigorous  speech  in  behalf  of 
1566.'^"^'^^'  the  retention  of  its  privileges ;  and  under  his 
auspices  three  fugitives  were  there,  of  very  unequal 
rank,  'for  murder;'  a  young  Lord  Dacre,  for  killing 
'Squire  West;'  a  thief,  for  killing  a  tailor  in  Long 
Acre ;  and  a  Westminster  scholar,  for  'killing  a  big  boy 
that  sold  papers  and  printed  books  in  Westminster 
Hall.' 2      These   probably   were^    its    last    homicides. 

1  He  was  buried  in  St.  Margaret's  Churchyard,  1529. 

2  Machyn's  Diary,  Dec.  6,  1556.     See  Chapter  VI. 

3  There  seems  to  have  been  much  discussion  as  to  a  case  in  which 


THE   SANCTUARY.  159 

After  the  accession  of  Elizabeth  its  inmates  were  re- 
stricted chiefly  to  debtors,  under  the  vigilant  super- 
vision of  the  Dean  and  the  Archdeacon.  But  at  last 
even  this  privilege  was  attacked.  On  that  occasion, 
Dean  Goodman  pleaded  the  claims  of  the  Sanctuary 
before  the  House  of  Commons,  and,  abandoning  the 
legend  of  St.  Peter,  rested  them  on  the  less  monastic 
but  not  less  apocryphal  charters  of  King  Lucius.^ 
Whatever  there  might  be  in  other  arguments,  there  was 
'  one  strong  especial  reason  for  its  continuance  here.  This 
privilege  had  caused  the  houses  within  the  district  to 
let  well.'  2  For  a  time  the  Dean's  arguments,  fortified 
by  those  of  two  learned  civilians,  prevailed.  But 
Elizabeth  added  sterner  and  sterner  restrictions,  and 
James  I.  at  last  suppressed  it  with  all  other 
Sanctuaries.^  Unfortunately,  the  iniquity  and 
vice  which  gathered  round  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Abbey,  and  which  has  only  in  our  own  time  been 
cleared  away,  was  the  not  unnatural  result  of  this 
'  City  of  Kefuge,'  a  striking  instance  of  the  evils  which, 
sooner  or  later,  are  produced  by  any  attempt  to  exalt 
local  or  ecclesiastical  sanctity  above  the  claims  of  law, 
and  justice,  and  morality.  The  'Sanctuaries'  of  me- 
diaeval Christendom  may  have  been  necessary  remedies 
for  a  barbarous  state  of  society ;  but  when  the  bar- 
barism of  which  they  formed  a  part  disappeared,  they 
became  almost  unmixed  evils ;  and  the  National  Schools 
and  the  Westminster  Hospital,  which  have  succeeded 
to    the  site  of  the  Westminster   Sanctuary,  may  not 

the  Abbot,  someAvhat  contrary  to  his  own  principles,  had  delivered  up 
a  robber  of  the  name  of  Vaughan.     (Excerpta  Historice,  312.) 

1  Strype's  Annals,  i.  528. 

2  Widmore,  p.  141 ;  Walcott,  p.  80. 

8  Widmore,  ibid. ;  1  Jas.  I.  c.  25,  §  34 ;  21  Jas.  I.  c.  28. 


160       THE   ABBEY   BEFORE   THE   REFORMATION. 

unfairly  be  regarded  as  humble  indications  of  the  dawn 
of  a  better  age. 

Not  far  from  the  Sanctuary  was  the  Almonry,  or 
'Ambrey.'  It  was  coeval  with  the  Abbey,  but  was  en- 
xhe  dowed  afresh  by  Henry  VII.  with  a  pension 

Almonry.  £^^  thirteen  poor  men,^  and  with  another  for 
women,  by  his  mother,  Margaret  of  Kichmond.  In  con- 
nection with  it  were  two  Chapels,  that  of  St.  Dunstan,^ 
the  scene  of  a  Convocation  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI 11.,^ 
and  that  of  St.  Anne,  which  gave  its  name  to  St.  Anne's 
St  Anne's  L^ne,*  for  ever  famous  through  Sir  Eoger  de 
Lane.  Coverlcy's  youthful  adventure  there  :  — 

This  worthy  knight,  being  then  but  a  strijiling,  had  occa- 
sion to  inquire  which  was  the  way  to  St,  Amies  Lane,  upon 
which  the  person  whom  he  spoke  to,  instead  of  answering 
his  question,  called  him  '  a  young  Popish  cur,'  and  asked  him 
who  had  made  Anne  a  saint  1  The  boy,  being  in  some  con- 
fusion, inquired  of  the  next  he  met,  which  was  the  way  to 
Anne's  Lane ;  but  was  called  '  a  prick-eared  cur '  for  his 
pains,  and,  instead  of  being  shown  the  way,  was  told  that  she 
had  been  a  saint  before  he  was  born,  and  would  be  one  after 
he  was  hanged.  '  Upon  this,'  says  Sir  Eoger,  '  I  did  not 
think  fit  to  repeat  the  former  question,  but  going  into  every 
lane  in  the  neighbourhood,  asked  what  they  called  the  name 
of  that  lane.'  By  which  ingenious  artifice  he  found  out 
the  place  he  inquired  after,  without  giving  offence  to  any 
party.' 

The  inner  arch  of  the  Gatehouse  led  into  an  irregular 
square,  which  was  the  chief  court  of  the  monastery, 

1  Stow,  p.  644.  —  Twelve  of  the  almsmen  still  continue,  bearing  the 
badge  of  Henry  VII.'s  Portcullis.  ^  "Ware. 

8  Wilkins,  Cone.  iii.  749.     See  Chapter  VI. 

^  In  this  lane  was  Purcell's  house.    (Novello's  Life  of  Piircell,  p.  x.) 
*  Spectator,  No.  125.     The  lane  is  now  destroyed. 


THE  ABBOT'S  HOUSE.  161 

corresponding  to  what  is  at  Canterbury  called  the 
'  Green  Court,'  and  which  at  Westminster,  in  like  man- 
ner (from  the  large  trees  planted  round  it),  was  known 
as  '  The  Elms.'  ^  Amongst  them  grew  a  huge  .^^e  Eims* 
oak,  which  was  blown  down  in  1791.  Across  Yanr°The 
this  court  ran  the  long  building  of  the  Gran-  ^^'"^'"^'■ 
ary.  It  was  of  two  storeys,  and  was  surmounted  by  a 
larse  central  tower.  Near  it  was  the  Oxstall,  or  stable 
for  the  cattle,  and  the  Barn  adjoining  the  mill-dam.^ 
Its  traces  were  still  visible  in  the  broken  ground  at  the 
beginning  of  this  century.  At  right  angles  to  it  were 
the  Bakehouse  and  Brewhouse. 

The  Abbot's  Place  (or  Palace),  built  by  Littlington 
with  a  slight  addition  by  Islip,  like  the  Abbot's  house 
at  St.  Albans,  occupied  the  south-western  side  'The  ^ 
of  the  Abbey,  and  stood  round  an  irregular  piace,-^ 
quadrangle,  into  which,  for  the  most  part  (as  Gate  Manor. 
in  all  houses  of  that  age),  its  windows  looked,  dkanery.) 

The  Dining 

Only  from  the  Grand  Dmmg-Hall  and  its  Haii. 
parlour  there  were  windows  into  the  open  space  before 
the  Sanctuary.  It  was  commonly  called  '  Cheyney  Gate 
Manor,'  from  the  conspicuous  chain  ^  which  was  drawn 
across  the  approach  from  the  Sanctuary.  It  had  a 
Chapel  in  Islip's  time,  perhaps  built  or  arranged  by 
him,  — '  My  Lord's  new  Chapel,'  hung  with  '  tapestry  of 
the  planets,'  and  white  curtains  'full  of  red  heads,' 
probably  that  at  the  south-west  end  of  the  Nave  —  in 

1  Malcolm,  p.  256.  —  The  green  of  Dean's  Yard  was  first  made  in 
1753.  (Gleanings,  p.  229.)  Professor  Willis  (Arch.  Cantiana,  vii.  97) 
conjectures  that  the  word  '  Homers '  applied  to  part  of  the  Canterbury 
Precincts,  is  a  corruption  of  '  Ormeaux '  ('  Elms '). 

2  See  the  document  quoted  in  Gleanings,  p.  224 ;  and  Gent.  Mag. 
[1815],  part  i.  p.  201.     See  Chapter  VI. 

3  Gleanings,  p.  222.  —  So  the  approach  to  the  Deanery  of  St.  Paul's 
is  called  '  St.  Paul's  Chain.' 

VOL.  II.  —  11 


162   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

connection  with  the  newly  built  '  Jericho  Parlour '  and 
with  the  wooden  gallery  which  overlooks  it,  and  which 
was  hung  in  green  and  red  silk,  and  having  '  a  little 
table  of  Queen  Joan's  arms.'  ^  This  house  —  the  pres- 
ent Deanery  —  was  the  scene,  already  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  of  many  striking  events.  The  reception  of  Eliza- 
beth Woodville  in  its  Hall  has  been  already  told.  In 
the  Hall,  before  that  time,  was  concerted  the  conspir- 
acy ^  of  Abbot  Colchester,  which  Shakspeare  has  in- 
corporated into  the  last  scenes  of  the  play  of  '  Kichard 
11.'  — 

Aumerle.  —  You  holy  clergymen,  is  there  no  plot 
To  rid  the  realm  of  this  pernicious  blot  ? 

Abbot.  —  Before  I  freely  speak  my  mind  herein, 
You  shall  not  only  take  the  sacrament 
To  bury  mine  intents,  but  to  effect 
Whatever  I  shall  happen  to  devise. 

Come  home  with  me  to  supper  ;  I  will  lay 
A  plot,  shall  show  us  all  a  merry  day. 

The  Abbot  had  been  entrusted  with  the  charge  of 
the  three  Dukes  and  two  Earls  who  were  suspected  by 
Conspiracy  Hcury  IV.  '  You  shall  be  entertained  hon- 
or co'iches-  ourably ,'  he  said,  '  for  King  Eichard's  sake  ; ' 
1399.  ^ '    '   and  he  took  the  opportunity  of  their  presence 

1  Inventory. 

2  The  authorities  for  this  story  are  Holinshed  and  Hall,  but  in  much 
more  minute  detail  the  French  Chronicle  (published  by  the  English 
Historical  Society)  on  the  Betrayal  of  Richard  II.,  pp.  228,  229,  258, 
260.  According  to  this,  the  Abbot  and  the  two  prelates  were  sent  to 
the  Tower,  but  afterwards  released.  According  to  Hall,  when  the 
conspiracy  was  discovered,  '  the  Abbot,  going  between  his  monastery 
and  mansion  for  thought  [i.e.iov  anxiety],  fell  into  a  sudden  palsy, 
and  shortly  after,  without  speech,  ended  his  life.'  This  is  fabulous,  as 
Colchester  long  outlived  the  conspiracy.  (See  Widmore,  p.  110;  Arch- 
aoLogia,  x.  217.) 


THE  JEKUSALEM  CHAMBEK.  163 

in  liis  lious3  to  concert  the  plot  with  Walden  the  de- 
posed Primate,  Merks  '  the  good  Bishop  of  Carlisle  ' 
(who  had  formerly  been  a  monk  at  AVestminster), 
Maudlin  the  priest  (whose  likeness  to  Pdchard  was  so 
remarkable),  and  two  others  attached  to  Eichard's  Court. 
They  dined  together,  evidently  in  the  Abbot's  Hall,  and 
then  withdrew  into  what  is  called,  in  one  version  '  a 
secret  chamber,'  ^  in  another  '  a  side  council-chamber,' 
where  six  deeds  were  prepared  by  a  secretary,  to  which 
six  of  the  number  affixed  their  seals,  and  swore  to  be 
faithful  to  the  death  of  King  Eichard.'^  The  'secret 
chamber'  may  have  been  that  which  exists  behind  the 
wall  of  the  present  Library  of  the  Deanery,  and  which 
was  opened,  after  an  interval  of  many  years,  in  1864.-^ 
The  Long  Chamber,  out  of  which  it  is  approached, 
must  have  been  the  chief  private  apartment  of  the 
Abbot,  and  was  lighted  by  six  windows  looking  out  on 
the  quadrangle.  But  the  '  side  council-chamber  '  rather 
indicates  the  first  of  the  long  line  of  associations  which 
attach  to  a  spot  immediately  adjoining  the  Hall. 

'  There  is  an  old,  low,  shabby  wall,  which  runs  off 
from  the  south  side  of  the  great  west  doorway  into 
Westminster  Abbey.  This  wall  is  only  broken  by  one 
wired  window,  and  the  whole  appearance  of  the  wall 
and  window  is  such,  that  many  strangers  and  inhab- 
itants have  wondered  why  they  were  allowed  to  encum- 
ber and  deform  this  magnificent  front.  But  that  wall 
is  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  and  that  guarded  THE^J^Rr- 
window  is  its  principal  light.'  So  a  venerable  chamber. 
church-reformer  ^  of  our  own  day  describes  the  external 

1  Holinshed. 

2  See  Widmore,  p.  110;  and  Archaohgia,  xx.  217. 
8  See  Chapter  VI. 

♦  W.  W.  Hull's  Church  Inquiry.    1827,  p.  244.    See  Chapter  VI. 


164   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

appearance  of  the  Chamber  which  has  witnessed  so 
many  schemes  of  ecclesiastical  polity  —  some  dark  and 
narrow,  some  full  of  noble  aspirations  —  in  the  later 
days  of  our  Church,  but  which  even  in  the  Middle 
Ages  had  become  historical.  In  the  time  of  Henry  IV. 
it  was  still  but  a  private  apartment  —  the  withdra wing- 
room  of  the  Abbot,  opening  on  one  hand  into  his  re- 
fectory, on  the  other  into  his  yard  or  garden  ^  —  just 
rebuilt  by  Nicholas  Littlington,  and  deriving  tlie  name 
of  Jerusalem,  probably,  from  tapestries  ^  or  pictures  of 
the  history  of  Jerusalem,  as  the  Antioch  Chamber  ^  in 
the  Palace  of  Westminster  was  so  called  from  pictures 
of  the  history  of  Antioch.*  The  small  ante-chamber 
which  connects  it  with  the  rest  of  the  abbatial  build- 
ings was  of  later  date,  probably  under  Abbot  Islip  ; 
but  it  derived  its  name  doubtless  from  its  proximity  to 
its  greater  and  more  famous  neighbour.  As  the  older 
and  larger  was  called  the  '  Jerusalem  parlour,'  so  this 
was  called  the  '  Jericho  parlour.'  ^ 

If  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  was  perhaps  the  scene  of 

1  It  is  this  court  probably  which  is  mentioned  in  tlie  accounts  of 
Abbot  Islip  as  '  the  Jerusalem  Garden  in  Cheney  gate.'  (Archives,  May 
5,  1494.) 

2  '  Two  good  peeces  of  counterfait  arras,  of  the  seege  of  Jerusalem.' 
(Walcott's  Inventory,  p.  47.)  The  tapestries  in  the  16th  century  rep- 
resented the  history  of  the  planets.  The  curtains  were  of  '  pale 
thread  full  of  red  roses.'     (Inventory.) 

3  Walpole's  Anecdotes  of  Painting,  i.  20.  —  Brayley,  59.  '  Galilee  * 
was  the  name  for  the  chamber  between  the  Great  and  Little  Hall  in 
the  Palace  of  Westminster.     (  Vet.  Man.  iv.  2.) 

*  The  first  mention  of  the  Chamber  in  Henry  IV.'s  time,  implies 
that  there  had  been  an  earlier  one,  '  a  certain  chamber  called  of  old 
time  Jerusalem.'  (Rer.  Angl.  Script.  Vet.  i.  499.)  To  this,  perhaps, 
belonged  the  fragments  of  painted  glass,  of  the  time  of  Henry  III., 
chiefly  subjects  from  the  New  Testament,  but  not  specially  bearing  on 
Jerusalem,  in  the  northern  window. 

s  Inventory.     On  one  of  the  windows  is  scratched  the  date  1512. 


7    y-*- 


THE  JERUSALEM   CHAMBER.  165 

the  conspiracy  against  the  first  Lancastrian  king,  it  cer- 
tainly was  the   scene   of   his  death.     Henry  pg^thof 
IV.,  as  his  son  after  ^  him,  had   been   filled  fil^^l^l' 
with  the  thought  of  expiating  his  usurpation  ^■*^^- 
by  a  crusade.     His  illness,  meanwhile,  had  grown  upon 
him  during  the  last  years  of  his  life,  so  as  to  render 
him  a  burden  to  himself  and  to  those  around  hun.     He 
was  covered  with  a  hideous  leprosy,  and  was  almost 
bent  double  with  pain  and  weakness.     In  this  state  he 
had  come  up  to  Loudon  for  his  last  Parliament.     The 
galleys  were  ready  for  the  voyage  to  the  East.     '  All 
haste  and  possible  speed  was  made.'    It  was  apparently 
not  long  after  Christmas  that  the  King  was  making  his 
prayers  at  St.  Edward's  Shrme,  '  to  take  there  his  leave, 
and  so  to  speed  him  on  his  journey,'  when  he  became 
so  sick,  that  such  as  were  about  him  feared  ^.^  .^^^^^ 
'  that  he  would  have  died  right  there ;  where- 
fore they  for  his  comfort  bore  hun  into  the  Abbot's 
Place,  and  lodged  him  in  a  Chamber,  and  there  upon  a 
pallet  laid  him  before  the  fire,  where  he  lay  in  great 
agony  a  certain  time.'     He  must  have  been  brought 
through  the  Cloisters,  the  present  ready  access  from  the 
Nave  not  bemg  then  in   existence.^     The   '  fire '  was 
doubtless  where   it  now   is,   for  which  the   Chamber 
then,  as  afterwards  in  the  seventeenth  century,  was  re- 
markable amongst  the  parlours  of  London,  and  which, 
as   afterwards,^   so   now,   was   the    immediate   though 
homely  occasion  of  the  historical  interest  of  the  Cham- 
ber.    It  was  the  early  spring,  when  the  Abbey  was 

1  See  Chapter  III. 

2  This  was  probably  added  in  Islip's  time,  with  the  passage  com- 
municating directly  into  the  Abbot's  House. 

3  See  Chapter  Vl.     It  had  '  a  firefork  '  of  iron  and  two  '  andirons.' 
(Inventory.) 


166   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

filled  with  its  old  deadly  chill,  and  the  friendly  warmth 
naturally  brought  the  King  and  his  attendants  to  this 
spot.  '  At  length  when  he  was  come  to  himself,  not 
knowing  where  he  was,  he  freined  (asked)  of  such  as 
were  about  him,  what  place  that  was.  The  which 
showed  to  him  that  it  belonged  to  the  Abbot  of  AVest- 
minster  ;  and,  for  he  felt  himself  so  sick,  he  commanded 
to  ask  if  that  Chamber  had  any  special  name.  "Whereto 
it  was  answered  that  it  was  named  Hierusalem.  Then 
said  the  King,  Laud  be  to  the  Father  of  Heaven  !  for 
now  I  know  that  I  shall  die  in  this  Chamber,  according 
to  the  prophecy  made  of  me  beforesaid,  that  I  should 
die  in  Hierusalem.'  ^  All  through  his  reign  his  mind 
had  been  filled  with  predictions  of  this  sort.  One  espe- 
cially had  run  through  Wales,  describing  that  the  son 
of  the  eagle  '  should  conquer  Jerusalem.'  ^  The  pro- 
phecy was  of  the  same  kind  as  that  which  misled 
Cambyses  at  Ecbatana,  on  Mount  Carmel,  when  he  had 
expected  to  die  at  Ecbatana  in  Media ;  and  (according 
to  the  legend)  Pope  Sylvester  II.,  at  '  Santa  Croce  in 
Gerusalemme,'  when  he  had  expected  to  avoid  the  Devil 
by  not  going  to  the  Syrian  Jerusalem ;  and  Eobert 
Guiscard,  when  he  found  himself  unexpectedly  in  a 
convent  called  Jerusalem  in  Cephalonia.^ 

With  this  predetermination  to  die,  the  King  lingered 

on  — 

Bear  me  to  that  Chamber :  there  I  '11  lie  — 
In  that  Jerusalem  shall  Harry  die ; '' 

1  Fahyan,  pp.  388,  389. 

2  Arch.  XX.  257. 

3  Palgrave's  Normandij,  iv.  479.  —  A  convent  bearing  the  name  of 
'  Jerusalem  '  exists  on  Mount  Parnassus,  and  another  near  Moscow. 

*  For  many  years  (see  Chapter  III.)  the  portrait  of  his  rival,  Rich- 
ard II.,  was  hung  in  this  Chamber.  It  has  now  returned  to  its  original 
place  in  the  Abbey. 


THE  JERUSALEM  CHAMBER.  167 

aud  it  was  then  and  there  that  occurred  the  scene  of 
his  son's  removal  of  the  Crown,  which  Shakspeare  has 
immortalised,^  and  which,  though  first  mentioned  by 
Monstrelet,  is  rendered  probable  by  the  fre-  conversion 
quent  discussions  which  had  been  raised  in  of  Henry  v. 
Henry's  last  years  as  to  the  necessity  of  his  resigning 
the  crown: 2  — 

Ceux  qui  de  luy  avoient  la  garde  un  certain  lour,  voyans 
que  de  sou  corps,  u'issoit  phis  d'alaine,  cuidans  pour  vray 
qu'il  fut  transis,  luy  avoient  couvert  le  visage.  Or  est  aiusi 
que  comme  il  est  accoutume  de  faire  en  pays,  on  avoit  mis 
sa  couronne  Royal  sur  uue  couch  assez  pres  de  luy,  laquelle 
devoit  prendre  presentement  apres  son  trepas  son  dessusdit 
premier  fils  et  successeur,  lequel  fut  de  ce  faire  assez  prest : 
et  print  la  dicte  courrone,  &  emporta  sur  la  donner  a  entendre 
des  dictes  gardes.  Or  advint  qu'assez  tost  apres  le  Roy  ieeta 
un  soupir  si  fut  descouvert,  &  retourna  en  assez  bonne  me- 
moire ;  &  tant  qu'il  regarda  ou  auoit  este  sa  couronne  mise  : 
&  quand  il  ne  la  veit  deraanda  ou  elle  estoit,  &  ses  gardes 
luy  respondirent,  Sire,  raonseigneur  le  Prince  vostro  fils  I'a 
emporte :  &  il  dit  qu'on  le  feit  venir  devers  luy  &  il  y  vint. 
Et  adonc  le  Roy  lui  demanda  pourquoi  il  avoit  emporte  sa 
couronne,  &  le  Prince  dit :  Monseigneur,  voicy  en  presence 
ceux  qui'  m'avoient  donne  a  entendre  &  afferme,  qu'estiez 
trespasse,  et  pour  ce  que  suis  vostre  fils  aisne,  et  qu'a  moy 
appartiendra  vostre  couronne  &  Royaume  apres  que  serez  alle 
de  vie  a  trepas,  I'avoye  prise.     Et  adonc  le  Roy  en  soupirant 

1  It  is  perhaps  too  much  to  suppose  that  Shakspeare  paid  any  atten- 
tion to  the  actual  localities,  as  he  evidently  represents  the  whole  affair 
as  taking  place  in  the  Palace.  But  it  is  curious  that,  if  the  King  be 
supposed  to  remain  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  the  Lords  may  have 
been 'in  the  other  room' — the  Dining  Hall,  where  the  music  would 
play.  Prince  Henry  might  thus  pass  not  '  through  the  chamber  where 
they  stayed,'  but  through  the  'open  door'  of  the  Chamber  itself  into 
the  adjacent  court. 

2  Pauli,  V.  72. 


168   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

luy  dit :  Beau  ills  —  comment  y  auriez  vous  droit  car  ie  n'en 
y  euz  oncques  point,  &  se  sgauez  vous  bien.  Monseigneur, 
respondit  le  Prince,  ainsi  qui  vous  I'avez  tenu  et  garde  h 
I'espee,  c'est  mon  intention  de  la  garder  &  deti'endre  toute  ma 
vie;  &  adouc  dit  le  Eoy,  or  en  faictes  comme  bon  vous 
semblera :  ie  m'en  rapporte  a  Dieu  du  surplus,  auquel  ie  prie 
qu'il  ait  mercy  de  moy.  FA  bref  apres  sans  autre  chose  dire, 
alia  de  vie  a  trepas.-^ 

The  English  chroniclers  speak  only  of  the  Prince's 
faithful  attendance  on  his  father's  sick-bed ;  and  when, 
as  the  end  drew  near,  the  King's  failing  sight  ^  pre- 
vented him  from  observing  what  the  ministering  priest 
was  doing,  his  son  replied,  with  the  devotedness  char- 
acteristic of  the  Lancastrian  House,  '  My  Lord,  he  has 
just  consecrated  the  body  of  our  Lord.  I  entreat  you 
to  worship  Him,  by  whom  kings  reign  and  princes 
rule.'  The  King  feebly  raised  himself  up,  and  stretched 
out  his  hands ;  and,  before  the  elevation  of  the  cup, 
called  the  Prince  to  kiss  him,  and  then  pronounced 
upon  him  a  blessing,^  variously  given,  but  in  each 
version  containing  an  allusion  to  the  blessing  of  Isaac 
on  Jacob  —  it  may  be  from  the  recollection  of  the  com- 
parison of  himself  to  Jacob  on  his  first  accession,^  or 
from  the  likeness  of  the  relations  of  himself  and  his 
son  to  the  two  Jewish  Patriarchs.  'These  were  the 
last  words  of  the  victorious  Henry.' ^  The  Prince,  in 
an  agony  of  grief,  retired  to  an  oratory,  as  it  would 
seem,  within  the  monastery;  and   there,  on  his  bare 

1  Monstrelet,  p.  163.  —  He  speaks  of  the  King's  being  hiiried  'a 
I'Eglise  de  V^aste  moustier  aupres  ses  pre'de'cesseurs  '  The  burial  (see 
Chapter  III.)  was  really  at  Canterbury. 

2  Elmham,  c.  vii. 

8  Ibid.     Capgrave's  De  Henricis,  p.  110. 

*  See  Chapter  II.  ^  Elmham,  c.  vii. 


THE   JERUSxVLEM   CHAMBER.  169 

knees,  and  with  floods  of  tears,  passed  the  whole  of 
that  dreary  day,  till  nightfall,  in  remorse  for  his  past 
sins.  At  night  he  secretly  went  to  a  holy  hermit  in 
the  Precincts  (the  successor,  probably,  of  the  one  whom 
Eichard  II.  had  consulted),  and  from  him,  after  a  full 
confession,  received  absolution.  Such  was  the  tradition 
of  what,  in  modern  days,  would  be  called  the  'con- 
version of  Henry  V.' 

The  last  historical  purpose  to  which  the  Abbot's 
House  was  turned  before  the  Dissolution  was  the  four 
days'  confinement  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  under  sir  Thomas 

More,  April 

charge  of  the  last  Abbot,  who  strongly  urged  14-17,1534. 
his  acknowledgment  of  the  King's  Supremacy.     From 
its  walls  he  probably  wrote  his  Appeal  to  a  General 
Council,^  and  he  was  taken  thence  by  the  river  to  the 
Tower. 

On  leaving  the  Abbot's  House,  we  find  ourselves  in 
the  midst  of  the  ordinary  monastic  life.  It  is  now  that 
we  come  upon  the  indications  of  the  unusual  The 

^  Priors  and 

srandeur  of  the  establishment.  The  Abbot's  subpriors. 
House  was,  as  we  have  seen,  a  little  palace.  The  rest 
was  in  proportion.  In  most  monasteries  there  was  but 
one  Prior  (who  filled  the  office  of  Deputy  to  the  Abbot), 
and  one  Subprior.  Here,  close  adjoining  to  the  Abbot's 
House,  was  a  long  line  of  buildings,  now  forming  the 
eastern  side  of  Dean's  Yard,  which  were  occupied  by 
the  Prior,  the  Subprior,  the  Prior  of  the  Cloister, 
and  the  two  inferior  Subpriors,  and  their  Chaplain.^ 
The  South  Cloister  near  the  Prior's  Chamber  was 
painted  with  a  fresco  of  the  Nativity.^  The  number  of 
the  inferior  officers  was  doubled  in  like  manner,  raising 
the  whole   number   to   fifty  or   sixty.     The   ordinary 

1  More's  WorJcs,  282  ;  Doyne  Bell's  Tower  Chapel,  p.  77. 

2  Ware,  p.  275.  ^  Cartulary. 


170      THE  ABBEY  BEFORE   THE   KEFORMATIOtf. 

members  of  the  monastic  community  were,  at  least  in 
the  thirteenth  century,  not  admitted  without  consider- 
able scrutiny  as  to  their  character  and  motives.  Their 
number  seems  to  have  amounted  to  about  eighty.  The 
whole  suite  was  called  '  the  Long  House,'  or  the  '  Calbege,' 
or  the  'House  with  the  Tub  in  it'  —  from  the  large 
keel  or  cooling  tub  used  in  the  vaulted  cellarage.  It 
terminated  at  the  'Blackstole  Tower'  still  remaining 
at  the  entrance  of  '  Little  Dean's  Gate.' 

The  Abbot's  House  opened  by  a  large  archway,  still 
visible,  into  the  West  Cloister.  The  Cloisters  had  been 
The  begun   by  the  Confessor,  and   were  finished 

Cloisters,  shortly  after  the  Couqucst.  Part  of  the  east- 
ern side  was  rebuilt  by  Henry  III.,  and  part  of  the 
northern  by  Edward  I.  The  eastern  was  finished  by 
Abbot  Byrcheston  in  1345,  and  the  southern  and  west- 
ern, with  the  remaining  part  of  the  northern,  by  the 
Abbots  Langham  and  Littlington  from  1350  to  1366.^ 
In  this  quadrangle  was,  doubtless,  the  focus  of  the 
monastic  life,  the  place  of  recreation  and  gossip,  of 
intercourse  and  business,  and  of  final  rest.  In  the 
central  plot  of  grass  were  buried  the  humbler  brethren; 
in  the  South  and  East  Cloisters,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
earlier  Abbots.  The  behaviour  of  the  monks  in  this 
public  place  was  under  the  supervision  of  the  two  lesser 
Subpriors,  who  bore  the  somewhat  unpleasant  name  of 
'  Spies  of  the  Cloister.'  In  the  North  Cloister,  close  by 
the  entrance  of  the  Church,  where  the  monks  usually 
walked,  sate  the   Prior.     In   the  Western  —  the   one 

1  Gleanings,  37,  52,  53.  A  fragment,  bearing  the  names  of  William 
Rufus  and  Abbot  Gislebert,  is  said  to  have  been  found  in  1831.  (Gent. 
Mag.  [1831],  part  ii.  p.  545.)  A  capital,  with  their  joint  heads,  wag 
found  in  the  remains  of  the  walls  of  the  Westminster  Palace.  ( Vet. 
Mon.  vol.  V.  plato  xcvii.  p.  4.) 


THE   CLOISTERS,   WITH   ENTRANCE   TO  THE   CHAPTER   HOUSE. 


THE  JERUSALEM  CHAMBER.  171 

still  the  most  familiar  to  Westminster  scholars  —  sate 
the  Master  of  the  Novices,  with  his  disciples.  The  school 

,         .        .  p    -^iT  ■  in  the  West 

This  was  the  first  begmnmg  oi  Westmmster  cloisters. 
School.  Traces  of  it  have  been  found  in  the  literary- 
challenges  of  the  London  schoolboys,  described  by 
Fitzstephen,^  in  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  and  in  the 
legendary  traditions  of  Ingiilph's  schooldays,  in  the 
time  of  the  Confessor  and  Queen  Edith :  — 

Frequently  have  I  seen  her  Avhen,  in  my  boyhood,  I  used 
to  visit  my  father,  who  was  employed  about  the  Court ;  and 
often  when  I  met  her,  as  I  was  coming  from  school,  did  she 
question  me  about  my  studies  and  my  verses,  and  most 
readily  passing  from  the  solidity  of  grammar  to  the  brighter 
studies  of  logic,  in  which  she  was  particularly  skilful,  she 
would  catch  me  with  the  subtle  threads  of  her  arguments. 
She  would  always  present  me  with  three  or  four  pieces  of 
money,  which  were  counted  out  to  me  by  her  handmaiden, 
and  then  send  me  to  the  royal  larder  to  refresh  myself.^ 

Near  the  seat  of  the  monks  was  a  carved  crucifix.^ 
These  novices  or  disciples  at  their  lessons  were  planted, 
except  for  one  hour  in  the  day,  each  behind  the  other.* 
No  signals  or  jokes  were  allowed  amongst  them.^  No 
language  but  French  was  allowed  in  their  commu- 
nications with  each  other.  English  and  Latin  were  ex- 
pressly prohibited.^  The  utmost  care  was  to  be  taken 
with  their  writings  and  illuminations.^ 

1  'Pueri  diversarum  scholarum  versibus  inter  se  conrixantur.' 
(Descript.  Lond.) 

2  Ingulph's  Chronicle  (a.d.  1043-1051).  The  Chronicle  really  dates 
from  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century.  ( Quart.  Rev.  xxxiv. 
296.)  ^  Cartulary. 

*  Ware,  p.  268.  ^  Ibid.  p.  277. 

6  Ibid.  pp.  280,  375,  388,  404,  422,  423.  —  The  form  of  admission 
is  given  in  Latin,  French,  and  English,  ib.  p.  407. 

7  Ibid.  pp.  275,  281. 


172   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

Besides  these  occupations,  many  others  less  civilised 

were  carried  on  in  the  same  place.     Under  the  Abbots 

'  of  venerable  memory  '  before  Henry  III.'s  changes,  the 

Cloister  was  the  scene  of  the  important  act  of 

Shaving.  .  •  i  •    i         i 

shaving,  an  art  respectmg  which  the  most 
minute  directions  are  given.  Afterwards  the  younger 
monks  alone  underwent  the  operation  thus  publicly. 
Soap  and  hot  water  were  to  be  always  at  hand  ;  and  if 
any  of  the  monks  were  unable  to  perform  their  duty  in 
this  respect,  they  were  admonished  '  to  revolve  in  their 
minds  that  saying  of  the  Philosopher,  "  For  learning 
ivhat  is  needful  no  age  seems  to  he  too  late."  '  ^  In  the 
stern  old  days,  before  the  time  of  Abbot  Berking  '  of 
happy  memory,'  these  Claustral  shavings  took  place 
once  a  fortnight  in  summer,  and  once  in  three  weeks  in 
winter,^  and  also  on  Saturdays  the  heads  and  feet  of 
the  brethren  were  duly  washed.  An  arcade  in  the 
South  Cloister  is  conjectured  to  have  been  the  Lavatory. 
Baths  might  be  had  for  health,  though  not  for  pleasure. 
The  arrangements  for  the  cleanliness  of  the  inmates 
form,  in  fact,  there,  as  elsewhere  in  English  monasteries, 
a  curious  contrast  with  the  consecration  of  filth  and 
discomfort  in  other  parts  of  mediteval  life  both  sacred 
and  secular. 

It  is  difficult  to  imagine  how  these  various  occupa- 
tions were  carried  on  in  the  Cloisters.  The  upper 
tracery  of  the  bays  appears  to  have  ^  been  glazed  ;  but 
the  lower  part  was  open,  then  as  now ;  and  the  wind, 
rain,  and  snow  must  have  swept  pitilessly  alike  over 
the  brethren  in  the  hands  of  the  monastic  barber,  and 
the  novices  turning  over  their  books  or  spelling  out 

1  "Ware,  pp.  291,  292,  293-296.  2  ibid.  p.  290. 

3  RemaiDs  of  the  iron  fittings  are  still  visible. 


THE   REFECTORY.  173 

their  manuscripts.  The  rough  carpet  of  hay  and  straw 
in  summer,  and  of  rushes  in  winter,  and  the  mats  laid 
along  the  stone  benches,  must  have  given  to  the  Clois- 
ters a  habitable  aspect,  unlike  their  present  appearance, 
but  could  have  been  but  a  very  inadequate  protection 
against  the  inclemency  of  an  English  frost  or  storm. 

If  during  any  part  of  this  conventual  stir  the  Abbot 
appeared,  every  one  rose  and  bowed  and  kept  silence 
till  he  had  gone  by.^  He  passed  on,  and  took  his  place 
in  solitary  grandeur  in  the  Eastern  Cloister. 

Along  the  whole  length  of  the  Southern  Cloister  ex- 
tended the  Eefectory  of  the  Convent,  as  distinguished 
from  that  of  the  Abbot's  Hall  in  his  own  theRefec 
*  palace.'  There  were,  here,  as  in  the  other  '^"''^• 
greater  monasteries,^  guest  chambers.  The  rules  for  the 
admission  of  guests  show  how  numerous  they  were. 
They  were  always  to  be  hospitably  received,  mostly 
with  a  double  portion  of  what  the  inmates  had,  and 
were  to  be  shown  over  the  monastery  as  soon  as  they 
arrived.  All  Benedictines  had  an  absolute  claim  on 
their  brother  Benedictines  ;  and  it  was  a  serious  com- 
plaint that  on  one  occasion  a  crowd  of  disorderly  Cis- 
tercian guests  led  to  the  improper  exclusion  of  the 
Abbots  of  Boxley  and  Bayham,  and  the  Precentor  of 
Canterbury.  The  Refectory  was  a  magnificent  cham- 
ber, of  which  the  lower  arcades  were  of  the  time  of  the 
Confessor,  or  of  the  first  Norman  Kings ;  the  upper 
story,  which  contained  the  Hall  itself,  of  the  time  of 
Edward  III.  It  was  approached  by  two  doors,  which 
still  remain  in  the  Cloister.  The  towels  for  wiping 
their  hands  hung  over  the  Lavatory  outside,  between 

1  Ware,  pp.  278,  282. 

2  Remains  exist  of  a  chamber  parallel  to  the  Refectory,  which 
probably  served  this  purpose. 


174   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

the  doors,  or  at  the  table  or  window  of  the  Kitchen/ 
which,  with  the  usual  Buttery  in  front  (still  in  part  re- 
maining), was  at  the  west  end  of  the  Refectory.  The 
regulations  for  the  behaviour  of  the  monks  at  dinner 
are  very  precise.  No  monk  was  to  speak  at  all,  no 
guest  above  a  whisper.  Laymen  of  low  rank  were  not 
to  dine  in  the  Refectory,  except  on  the  great  exceptional 
occasion  when,  as  we  have  seen,  the  fisherman  —  the 
successor  of  Edric  —  came  with  his  offering  of  the 
salmon  to  St.  Peter.'-^  The  Prior  sate  at  the  high  table, 
with  a  small  hand-bell  (Skylla)  beside  him,  and  near 
him  sate  the  greater  guests.  No  one  but  Abbots  or 
Priors  of  the  Benedictine  order  might  take  his  place, 
especially  no  Abbot  of  the  rival  Cistercians,  and  no 
Bishop.  Guests  were  in  the  habit  of  purchasing  an- 
nuities of  provisions,  not  only  for  themselves,  but  for 
their  descendants.  No  one  was  to  sit  with  his  hand  on 
his  chin,  or  his  hand  over  his  head,  as  if  in  pain,  or  to 
lean  on  his  elbows,  or  to  stare,  or  to  crack  nuts  with  his 
teeth.^  The  arrangements  of  the  pots  of  beer  were 
gratefully  traced  to  Abbot  Crokesley,  '  of  blessed  mem- 
ory.' *  The  usual  reading  of  Scripture  took  place,  closed 
by  the  usual  formulary,  Tu  autem,  Domine  miserere 
nobis  J'  The  candles  were  to  be  carefully  lit  at  dusk. 
Two  scandals  connected  with  this  practice  were  pre- 
served in  the  recollections  of  the  monastery  —  one  of  a 
wicked  cook,  who  had  concealed  a  woman  in  the  candle- 
cupboard  ;    another   of   '  an   irrational   and  impetuous 

1  Ware,  p.  263.  ^  gee  Chapter  I.  p.  24. 

8  Ware,  pp.  206,  207.  *  Ibid,  p.  303. 

6  Ibid.  p.  218.  —  Two  particles  of  this  Benedictine  service  are  still 
preserved  in  the  Hall  of  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  on  days  when  the 
Dean  and  Chapter  dine.  A  single  verse  is  recited,  in  Greek,  from  the 
first  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel,  which  is  cut  short  by  the  Dean  saying 
'  Tu  autem' 


THE  DORMITORY.  175 

sacrist,'  who  had  carried  off  the  candles  from  the  Great 
Eefectory  to  the  Lesser  Dining-hall  or  '  Misericord.'  ^ 
To  what  secular  uses  the  Eefectory  was  turned  will  ap- 
pear as  we  proceed.  The  provisions  were  to  be  of  the 
best  kind,  and  were  under  the  charge  of  the  Cellarer. 
The  wheat  was  brought  up  from  the  Thames  to  the 
Granary,  which  stood  in  the  open  space  now  called 
Dean's  Yard,  and  the  keeper  of  which  was  held  to  be 
*  the  Cellarer's  right  hand.'  ^ 

Over  the  East  Cloister,  approached  by  a  stair  which 
still  in  part  remains,  was  the  Dormitory.^  In  the 
staircase  window  leading  up  to  it  was  a  cruci-  the  dor- 

°         -^  .  MITORY  OF 

fix.  The  floor  was  covered  with  matting,  the  monks. 
Each  monk  had  his  own  chest  of  clothes,  and  the  like, 
carefully  limited,  as  in  a  school  or  ship-cabin.*  They 
were  liable  to  be  waked  up  by  the  sounding  of  the 
gong  or  bell,  or  horn,  or  knocking  of  a  board,  at  an 
alarm  of  fire,  or  of  a  sudden  inundation  of  the  Thames.^ 
A  gallery  still  remains  opening  on  the  South  Transept, 
by  which  they  descended  into  the  Church  for  their 
night  services.  They  were  permitted  to  have  fur  caps, 
made  of  the  skins  of  wild  cats  or  foxes.^  At  right 
angles  to  the  Dormitory,  extending  from  the  Cloister 
to  the  College  garden,  was  the  building  known  in 
monasteries  as  '  the  lesser  dormitory.'  ^ 

1  Ware,  pp.  233,  235. 

2  Ibid.  p.  171. 

8  The  dormitory  still  exists,  divided  between  the  Chapter  Library 
and  the  Great  School.  (See  Chapter  VI.)  The  stairs  from  the  Clois- 
ters were  restored  by  Sir  Gilbert  Scott.  (See  Gleanings.)  Another 
small  stair,  descending  at  the  southern  end,  was  discovered  in  1869. 

*  Ware,  pp.  48,  49,  253,  255,  257. 

6  Such  a  flood  took  place  in  1274.     (Matt.  West.) 

6  Ware,  pp.  25,  241. 

T  The  long  subterranean  drain,  which  indicates  the  course  of  the 
building,  was  found  in  1868.     See  Archceologia  Cantiana,  vii.  82. 


176   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  EEFORMATION. 

We  pass  abruptly  from  this  private  and  tranquil  life 
of  the  monks  in  their  Dormitory  to  the  three  buildings 
which  stand  in  close  connection  with  it,  and  whicli,  by 
the  inextricable  union  of  the  Abbey  with  the  Crown 
and  State  of  England,  bring  us  into  direct  contact  with 
the  outer  world  —  the  Treasury,  the  Chapter 
Treasury,  jjo^^gc,  and  the  Jcwel  Housc  or  Parliament 
Office.  In  the  Eastern  Cloister  is  an  ancient  double 
door,  which  can  ^  never  be  opened,  except  by  the  officers 
of  the  Government  or  their  representatives  (now  the 
Lords  Commissioners  of  the  Treasury,  till  recently,  with 
the  Comptroller  of  the  Exchequer),  bearing  seven  keys, 
some  of  them  of  huge  dimensions,  that  alone  could  ad- 
mit to  the  chamber  within.  That  chamber,  which 
belongs  to  the  Norman  2  substructions  underneath  the 
Dormitory,  is  no  less  than  the  Treasury  of  England  ^  — 
a  grand  word,  which,  whilst  it  conveys  us  back  to  the 
most  primitive  times,  is  yet  big  with  the  destinies  of 
the  present  and  the  future ;  that  sacred  building,  in 
which  were  hoarded  the  treasures  of  the  nation,  in  the 
days  when  the  public  robbers  were  literally  thieves  or 
highwaymen  ;  that  institution,  which  is  now  the  key- 
stone of  the  Commonwealth,  of  which  the  Prime  Min- 
ister is  the  '  First  Lord,'  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer 

1  The  '  Standard '  Act  of  1866  vested  the  sole  custody  in  the  Treas- 
ury. The  transfer  of  the  keys  of  the  Exchequer  took  place  on  May  31, 
1866.  I  owe  the  exact  statement  of  the  facts  relating  to  the  Treasury 
to  Sir  Charles  Trevelyan  and  Mr.  Chisholm. 

2  Gleaninfjs,  pp.  9,  10. 

8  In  the  seventeenth  century  there  were,  properly  speaking,  four 
Treasuries  — the  first,  in  the  Court  of  Receipt ;  the  second,  in  the  New 
Palace  of  Westminster  ;  the  third,  in '  the  late  dissolved  Abbey  of  West- 
minster, in  the  old  Chapter-house ; '  the  fourth  was  '  in  the  Cloister  of 
the  said  Abbey,  locked  with  five  locks  and  keys,  being  within  two 
strong  double  doors.'  (Repertorie  of  Records,  printed  1631,  pp.  15-92.) 
But  the  three  first  are,  in  order  of  time,  later  than  the  fourth. 


THE  TREASURY.  177 

the  administrator,  and  which  represents  the  wealth  of  the 
wealthiest  nation  in  the  world.  Here  it  was  that,  proba- 
bly almost  immediately  after  the  Conquest,  the  Kings 
determined  to  lodge  their  treasure,  under  the  guardian- 
ship of  the  inviolable  Sanctuary  which  St.  Peter  had 
consecrated,  and  the  bones  of  the  Confessor  had  sancti- 
fied. So,  in  the  cave  hewn  out  of  the  rocky  side  of  the 
Hill  of  Mycense,  is  still  to  be  seen,  in  the  same  vault,  at 
once  the  Tomb  and  the  Treasury  of  the  House  of  Atreus. 
So,  underneath  the  cliff  of  the  Capitoline  Hill,  the  Treas- 
ury of  the  Eoman  Commonwealth  was  the  shrine  of 
the  most  venerable  of  the  Italian  gods  —  the  Temple  of 
Saturn.  So,  in  this  '  Chapel  of  the  Pyx,'  as  it  is  now 
called,  the  remains  of  an  altar  seem  ^  to  indicate  its 
original  sanctity;  if  it  be  not,  as  tradition  loved  to 
point  out,  the  tomb  of  one  who  may  well  be  called  the 
genius  of  the  place,  the  first  predecessor  of  our  careful 
Chancellors  of  the  Exchequer,  Hugolin,  the  Tomb  of 
chamberlain  of  the  Confessor,  whose  strict  ^'■'so^^. 
guardianship  of  the  royal  treasure  kept  even  his  master 
in  awe.2  Even  if  not  there,  he  lies  hard  by,  as  we  shall 
presently  see.  Hither  were  brought  the  most  cherished 
possessions  of  the  State.  The  Piegalia  of  the  Saxon 
monarchy  ;  the  Black  Eood  of  St.  Margaret  ('  the  Holy 
Cross  of  Holyrood ')  from  Scotland ;  the  '  Crocis  Gneyth ' 
(or  Cross  of  St.  Neot)  from  Wales,  deposited  here  by 
Edward  I. ;  ^  the  Sceptre  or  Eod  of  Moses ;  the  Am- 
pulla of  Henry  IV. ;  the  sword  with  which  King  Ath- 
elstane  cut  through  the  rock  at  Dunbar;*  the  sword 
of  Wayland  Smith,^  by  which  Henry  II.  was  knighted  ; 
the  sword  of  Tristan,  presented  to  John  by  the  Em- 

1  The  piscina  shows  it  to  have  been  an  altar. 

2  See  Chapter  I.  p.  17.  3  Palgrave's  Calendars,  i.  p.  cxvi. 
*  Malmesbury,  p.  149.  5  Hist.  Gaufridi  Ducis,  p.  520. 

VOL.  II.  — 12 


178   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

peror  ;  ^  the  dagger  which  wounded  Edward  I.  at  Acre  ; 
the  iron  gauntlet  worn  by  John  of  France  when  taken 
prisoner  at  Poitiers.^ 

In  that  close  interpenetration  of  Church  and  State, 
of  Palace  and  Abbey,  of  which  we  have  before  spoken, 
if  at  times  the  Clergy  have  suffered  from  the  undue 
intrusion  of  the  Crown,  the  Crown  has  also  suffered 
from  the  undue  intrusion  of  the  Clergy.  The  summer 
of  1303  witnessed  an  event  which  probably  affected  the 
fortunes  of  the  Treasury  ever  afterwards.  The  King 
mv  T,  u       was  on  his  Scottish  wars,  and  had  reached 

The  Rob- 
bery, 1303.     Linlithgow,  when  he  heard  the  news  that  the 

immense  hoard,  on  which  he  depended  for  his  supplies, 
had  been  carried  off.  The  chronicler  of  Westminster 
records,  as  matters  of  equal  importance,  that  in  that 
year '  Pope  Boniface  VIIL  was  stripped  of  all  his  goods, 
and  a  most  audacious  robber  by  himself  secretly  entered 
the  Treasury  of  the  King  of  England.'  ^  The  chronicler 
vehemently  repudiates  the  '  wicked  suspicion  '  that  any 
of  the  monks  of  Westminster  were  concerned  in  the 
transaction.  But  the  facts  are  too  stubborn.  The  chief 
robber,  doubtless,  was  one  Richard  de  Podlicote,  who 
had  already  climbed  by  a  ladder  near  the  Palace  Gate 
through  a  window  of  the  Chapter  House,  and  broken 
open  the  door  of  the  Eefectory,  whence  he  carried  off  a 
considerable  amount  of  silver  plate.  The  more  auda- 
cious attempt  on  the  Treasury,  whose  position  he  had 
then  ascertained,  he  concerted  with  friends  partly  with- 
in, partly  without  the  Precincts.*    Any  one  who  had 

1  Rymer,  i.  99  ;  iii.  174. 

2  Ibid.  i.  197.  —  It  may  be  as  a  memorial  of  this  accumulation  of 
sacred  and  secular  treasures  together,  that  at  the  Coronations  the  Lord 
Treasurer,  with  the  Lord  Chancellor,  carried  the  sacred  vessels  of  the 
altar.     (Taylor's  Recjality,  p.  172.) 

s  Matthew  of  Westminster,  a.  d.  1303.  *  Ibid. 


THE  TREASURY.  179 

passed  through  the  Cloisters  in  the  early  spring  of  that 
year  must  have  been  struck  by  the  unusual  appearance 
of  a  crop  of  hemp  springing  up  over  the  grassy  graves, 
and  the  gardener  who  came  to  mow  the  grass  and  carry 
off  the  herbage  was  constantly  refused  admittance.  In 
that  tangled  hemp,  sown  and  grown,  it  was  believed,  for 
this  special  purpose,  was  concealed  the  treasure  after  it 
was  taken  out.  In  two  large  black  panniers  it  was 
conveyed  away,  across  the  river,  to  the  '  King's  Bridge,' 
or  pier,  where  now  is  Westminster  Bridge,  by  the  monk 
Alexander  of  Pershore,  and  others,  who  returned  in  a 
boat  to  the  Abbot's  Mill,  on  the  Mill  Bank.  The 
broken  boxes,  the  jewels  scattered  on  the  floor,  the  rino- 
with  which  Henry  III.  was  consecrated,  the  privy  seal 
of  the  King  himself,  revealed  the  deed  to  the  astonished 
eyes  of  the  royal  officers  when  they  came  to  investigate 
the  rumour.  The  Abbot  and  forty-eight  monks  were 
taken  to  the  Tower,  and  a  long  trial  took  place.^  The 
Abbot  and  the  rest  of  the  fraternity  were  released,  but 
the  charge  was  brought  home  to  the  Subprior  and  the 
Sacrist.  The  architecture  still  bears  its  protest  against 
the  treason  and  the  boldness  of  the  robbers.  The  ap- 
proach from  the  northern  side  was  walled  off,  and  the 
Treasury  thus  reduced  by  one-third.^  Inside  and  out- 
side of  the  door  by  which  this  passage  is  entered  may 
be  felt  under  the  iron  cramps  fragments  of  what  mod- 
ern science  has  declared  to  be  the  skin  of  a  human 
being.  The  same  terrible  lining  was  also  affixed  to  the 
three  doors  of  the  Eevestry  ^  in  the  adjoining  compart- 
ment of  the  Abbey.     These  savage  trophies  are  gen- 

1  Gleanings,  pp.  282-288.     The  names  of  the  monks  are  given  in 
Dugdale,  i.  312  ;  Rymer,  ii.  938. 

2  Gleanings,  pp.  50-52. 

'  Dart,  i.  64  ;  Akerman,  ii.  26 ;   Gleanings,  pp.  48,  50. 


180   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

erally  said  to  belong  to  the  Danes  ;  and,  in  fact,  there 
is  no  period  to  which  they  can  be  so  naturally  referred 
as  to  this.  They  are,  doubtless,  '  the  marks  of  the  nails, 
and  the  hole  in  the  side  of  the  wall,'  to  which  the 
Westminster  chronicler  somewhat  irreverently  appeals, 
to  persuade  '  the  doubter '  not  to  be  faithless,  but '  be- 
lieving in  the  innocence  of  the  monks.'  ^  Eather  they 
conveyed  the  same  reminder  to  the  clergy  who  paced 
the  Cloisters  or  mounted  to  the  Dormitory  door,  as  the 
seat  on  which  the  Persian  judges  sate,  formed  out  of 
the  skin  of  their  unjust  predecessor,  with  the  inscrip- 
tion, 'Eemember  whereon  thou  sittest.'  Eelics  of  a 
barbarous  past,  they  contain  a  striking  instance  of 
terrific  precautions  against  extinct  evils.  The  perils 
vanish  —  the  precautions  remain.  From  that  time, 
however,  the  charm  of  the  Eoyal  Treasury  was  broken, 
and  its  more  valuable  contents  were  removed  elsewhere, 
although  it  was  still  under  the  protection  of  the  Mon- 
astery.2  Thenceforth  the  Westminster  Treasury  was 
employed  only  for  guarding  the  Eegalia,  the  Eelics,  the 
Eecords  of  Treaties,^  and  the  box  or  Pyx  containing  the 
Standard  Trial  Pieces  of  gold  and  silver,  used  for  deter- 
mining the  justness  of  the  gold  and  silver  coins  of  the 
realm  issued  from  the  Eoyal  Mint.  One  by  one  these 
glories  have  passed  from  it.  The  Eelics  doubtless  dis- 
appeared at  the  Eeformation  ;  the  Treaties,  as  we  shall 
presently  see.  Except  on  the  eve  of  the  Coronations 
—  when  they  are  deposited  in  the  Dean's  custody  either 
in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,   or  in  one  of  the  private 


1  Matthew  of  Westminster,  a.d.  1303. 

2  The  Exchequer  paid  ten  shillings  in  1519  to  Mr.  Falwood,  one  of 
the  monks,  for  mending  the  hinges,  and  supplying  a  key  of  the  Treas' 
ury  door.     (State  Papers,  1519.) 

8  Palgrave,  i.  p.  Ixxvi. 


THE    CHAPTER   HOUSE.  181 

closets  in  his  Library  —  the  Regalia  have,  since  the 
Eestoration,  been  transferred  to  the  Tower.^  The  Trial 
Pieces  alone  remain,  to  be  visited  once  every  five  years 
by  the  officers  before  mentioned,  for  the  '  Trial  of  the 
Pyx.'  2  But  it  continues,  like  the  enchanted  cave  of 
Toledo  or  Covadonga,  the  original  hiding-place  of  Eng- 
land's gold,  an  undoubted  relic  of  the  Confessor's  archi- 
tecture, a  solid  fragment  of  the  older  fabric  of  the 
monarchy  —  overshadowed,  but  not  absorbed,  by  the 
ecclesiastical  influences  around  it,  a  testimony  at  once 
to  the  sacredness  of  the  Abbey  and  to  the  independence 
of  the  Crown, 

The  Chapter  House  has  a  more  complex  history  than 
the  Treasury,  and  in  some  respects  it  epitomises  the 
vicissitudes  of   the  Abbey  itself.      Its  earliest  period, 

^  Down  to  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth,  the  Treasury,  as  contain- 
ing the  Regalia,  had  been  in  the  custody  of  the  Chapter,  as  before  of 
the  Convent.  On  January  23,  1G4.3,  a  motion  was  made  in  the  Com- 
mons that  the  Dean,  Subdean,  and  Prebeudaries  should  be  required 
to  deliver  up  the  keys ;  and  the  que.stion  put  whether,  upon  the  refusal 
of  the  keys,  the  door  of  that  place  should  be  broken  open.  So  strong 
was  the  deference  to  the  ancient  rights  of  the  Chapter  that,  even  in 
that  excited  time,  the  question  was  lost  by  58  against  37  ;  and  when 
the  doors  were  finally  forced  open,  it  was  only  on  the  express  under- 
standing that  an  inventory  be  taken,  new  locks  put  on  the  doors,  and 
nothing  removed  till  upon  further  order  of  the  House ;  and  even  this 
was  carried  only  by  42  against  41.  (Cobbett's  Parliamentary  History, 
iii.  118.     See  Chapter  VI.) 

2  The  Pyx,  which  sometimes  gives  its  name  to  this  chapel,  is  the 
box  kept  at  the  Mint,  in  which  specimens  of  the  coinage  are  deposited. 
The  word  '  Pyx  '  (originally  the  Latin  for  '  box,'  and  derived  from  the 
pyxis  or  boxtree)  is  now  limited  to  this  depository  of  coins  in  the 
English  Mint,  and  to  the  receptacle  of  the  Host  in  Roman  Catholic 
Churches.  The  Trial  is  the  examination  of  the  coins  contained  in  the 
Pyx  by  assay  and  comparison  with  the  Trial  Plates  or  Pieces.  See  an 
account  of  it  in  Brayley's  Londiniana,  iv.  145-147  ;  and  in  the  'Report 
to  the  Controller-General  of  the  Exchequer  upon  the  Trial  of  the  Pyx, 
etc.,  dated  February  10,  1866  ;  by  Mr.  H.  W.  Chisholm,  Chief  Clerk 
of  the  Exchequer.' 


182   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  EEFORMATION. 

doubtless,  goes  back  to  the  Confessor.  Of  this  no  ves- 
„     „         tiges  remain,  unless  in  the  thickness  of  the 

The  Chap-         &  ' 

TER  House,  -walls  in  the  Crypt  beneath.^  But  even  from 
this  early  time  it  became  the  first  nucleus  of  the  burials 
Tombs  in  of  the  Abbey.  Here,  at  least  during  the  re- 
House.^^*''  building  of  the  Church  by  Henry  III.,  if  not 
before,  on  the  south  side  of  the  entrance,  were  laid  Ed- 
win, first  Abbot  and  friend  of  the  Confessor,  in  a  marble 
tomb ;  ^  and  close  beside  and  with  him,  moved  thither 
from  the  Cloister,  Sebert,  the  supposed  founder  of 
Westminster,  St.  Paul's,  and  Cambridge;^  Ethelgoda, 
his  wife,  and  Eicula,  his  sister ;  Hugolin,  the  chamber- 
lain of  the  Confessor ;  and  Sulcard,  the  first  historian 
of  the  Monastery.  At  a  later  period  it  contained  two 
children  of  Edward  III.,  who  were  subsequently  re- 
moved to  the  Chapel  of  St.  Edmund.^  Eound  its  east- 
ern and  northern  walls  are  still  found  stone  coffins,^ 

1  See  Mr.  Scott's  Essay  on  tlie  Chapter  House  in  Old  London,  pp. 
146,  156. 

2  The  tomb  was  still  visible  in  the  time  of  Flete,  from  whose  manu- 
script account  this  is  taken.  He  also  gives  the  epitaph  and  verses, 
written  on  a  tal)let  above  the  tomb  of  Edwin :  — 

Iste  locellus  habet  bina  cadavera  claustro  ; 

Uxor  Seberti,  prima  tainen  minima  ; 
Defracta  capitis  testa,  clarus  Hugolinus 

A  claustro  noviter  hie  translatus  erat ; 
Abbas  Edvinus  et  Sulcardus  coenobita  ; 

Sulcardus  major  est.  —  Deus  assit  eis. 

From  these  lines  it  may  be  inferred  that  Ethelgoda's  was  less  than 
Hugolin's,  and  Edwin's  than  Sulcard's,  and  that  Hugolin's  had  had  its 
head  broken. 

3  For  the  removal  of  Sebert's  supposed  remains  from  the  Chapter 
House  to  the  Abbey  itself  see  Chapter  I.,  p.  13. 

*  It  has  been  sometimes  said  that  Eleanor,  the  youngest  daughter 
of  Edward  I.,  by  his  second  wife  Margaret,  but  called  after  his  lamented 
Eleanor,  was  buried  in  the  Chapter  Honse(131I).  But  she  appears 
{Green's  Princesses,  iii.  64)  to  have  been  taken  to  Beaulieu. 

^  Two  such  were  found  in  1867. 


THE   CHAPTER  HOUSE.  183 

which  show  it  to  have  been  the  centre  of  a  consecrated 
cemetery. 

We  have  already  seen  the  determination  of  Henry  III. 
that  the  Abbey  Church  should  be  of  superlative  beauty. 
In  like  manner  the  Chapter  House  was  to  be,  Rebuilt  by 

.  .       ,  Henry  III., 

as  Matthew  Pans  expressively  says  —  mean-  1250. 
ing,  no  doubt,  that  the  word  should  be  strictly  taken  — 
'incomparable.'^  John  of  St.  Omer  was  ordered  to 
make  a  lectern  for  it,  which  was  to  be,  if  possible, 
more  beautiful  than  that  at  St.  Albans.^  Its  structure 
implies  the  extraordinary  care  and  thought  bestowed 
upon  it.^  It  was  still  ^  regarded  as  unfinished  at  the 
close  of  the  fifteenth  century.  It  has  three  peculiar- 
ities, each  shared  by  only  one  other  building  itspecu- 
of  the  kind  in  England.  It  is,  except  Lincoln,  "'"''"'''• 
the  largest  Chapter  House  in  the  kingdom.  It  is,  ex- 
cept Wells,  the  only  one  which  has  the  advantage  of  a 
spacious  Crypt  underneath,  to  keep  it  dry  and  warm. 
It  is,  except  Worcester,  the  only  instance  of  a  round 
or  octagonal  Chapter  House,  in  the  place  of  the  rectan- 
gular or  longitudinal  buildings  usually  attached  to 
Benedictme  monasteries.^  The  approach  to  it  was 
unlike  that  of  any  other.  The  Abbey  Church  itself 
was  made  to  disgorge,  as  it  were,  one-third  of  its 
Southern  Transept  to  form  the  Eastern  Cloister,  by 
which  it  is  reached  from  the  Chancel.  Over  its  en- 
trance, from  a  mass  of  sculpture,  gilding,  and  painting, 
the  Virgin  Mother  looked  down,  both  within  and  with- 

1    Ghanimis,  p.  39.  2   Vet.  Mon.  vi.  4,  25. 

3  The  mathematical  proportions  are  strictly  observed.  The  tiles  on 
the  floor  are  of  the  most  elaborate  patterns  ;  one  is  a  miniature  of  the 
original  rose  window  of  the  South  Transept.     (G.  G.  Scott.) 

*  Cartulary. 

5  All  the  other  octagonal  Chapter  Houses  are  attached  to  cathe- 
drals.     {Gejil.  Mag.  1866,  pt.  i.  p.  4.) 


184   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

out ;  ^  and  there  was  also,  significant  of  the  jDurposes  of 
the  edifice,^  a  picture  of  the  Last  Judgment.  The  vast 
windows,  doubtless,  were  filled  with  stained-glass.^  Its 
walls  were  painted  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  by  a 
conventual  artist,  Brother  John  of  Northampton,  with 
a  series  of  rude  frescoes  from  the  Apocalypse,  com- 
mencing with  four  scenes  from  the  legendary  life  of 
St.  John,*  and  ending  with  a  large  group  of  figures,  of 
which  it  is  difficult  to  decipher  the  design.  At  the  eas- 
tern end  were  five  stalls,  occupied  by  the  Abbot,  the 
three  Priors,  and  the  Subprior,  more  richly  decorated, 
and  of  an  earlier  date. 

The  original  purposes  of  the  Chapter  House  were 
quaintly  defined  by  Abbot  Ware  immediately  after  its 
Its  monastic  ercction.  'It  is  the  Little  House,  in  which 
purposes.  ^^xe  Couvcnt  meets  to  consult  for  its  welfare. 
It  is  well  called  the  Capitulum  (Chapter  House),  be- 
cause it  is  the  caput  litium  (the  head  of  strifes),  for 
there  strifes  are  ended.  It  is  the  workshop  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  in  which  the  sons  of  God  are  gathered  together. 
It  is  the  house  of  confession,  the  house  of  obedience, 
mercy,  and  forgiveness,  the  house  of  unity,  peace,  and 
tranquillity,  where  the  brethren  make  satisfaction  for 
their  faults.'^ 

These  uses  seem  to  be  indicated  in  the  scrolls  on  the 
Angels'  wings  above  the  Abbot's  stall,  on  which  are 
written  confessio,  satisfactio,  muncUtia  carnis,  imritas 
mentis,  and  the  other  virtues  arranged  beneath. 

To  this,  at  least  once  a  week,  the  whole  Convent 

1  Ware,  pp.  283,  419.  .^  See  Cartulary. 

^  The  exact  date  of  the  progress  of  the  bnilding  is  given  by  the 
accounts  for  the  canvas  to  fill  up  the  empty  windows  (1253). 

*  Cartulary.  This  date  confirms  the  previous  conjecture  of  Sir 
Charles  Eastlake  (History  of  Oil  Painting,  p.  180). 

s  Ware,  p.  311. 


THE    CHAPTER   HOUSE.  185 

came  in  procession.  They  marched  in  double  file 
through  the  vestibule,  of  which  the  floor  still  capituiar 
bears  traces  of  their  feet.  They  bowed,  on  ™®'^'^'"°^- 
their  entrance,  to  the  Great  Crucifix,  which  rose,  prob- 
ably, immediately  before  them  over  the  stalls  at  the 
east  end,  where  the  Abbot  and  his  four  chief  officers 
were  enthroned. 

When  they  were  all  seated  on  the  stone  seats  round, 
perfect  freedom  of  speech  was  allowed.  Xow  was  the 
opportunity  for  making  any  complaints,  and  for  con- 
fessing faults.  A  story  was  long  remembered  of  the 
mistake  made  by  a  foolish  Prior  in  Abbot  Papillon's 
time,  who  confessed  out  of  his  proper  turn.^  The  warn- 
ing of  the  great  Benedictine  oracle,  Anselm,  against 
the  slightest  violation  of  rules,  was  emphatically  re- 
peated.2  No  signals  were  to  be  made  across  the  build- 
ing.^ The  guilty  parties  were  to  acknowledge  their 
faults  at  the  step  before  the  Abbot's  Stall.  Here,  too, 
was  the  scene  of  judgment  and  punishment.  The  de- 
tails are  such  as  recall  a  rough  school  rather  than  a 
grave  ecclesiastical  community.  The  younger  monks 
were  flogged  elsewhere.*  But  the  others,  stripped^ 
wholly  or  from  the  waist  upwards,  or  in  their  shirts 
girt  close  round  them,  were  scourged  in  public  here, 
with  rods  of  single  or  double  thickness,  by  the  '  mature 
brothers,'  who  formed  the  Council  of  the  Abbot  (but 
always  excluding  the  accuser  from  the  office),  the  crim- 
inal himself  sitting  on  a  three-legged  bench  —  probably 
before  the  central  pillar,  which  was  used  as  a  judgment- 
seat  or  whipping-post.^    If  flogging  was  deemed  insuffi- 

1  Ware,  p.  316.  2  jtid.  pp.  3i8_  331.  3  ma.  p.  321. 

*  Ibid.  pp.  348,  366,  383.  ^  ibid.  p.  380. 

6  Fosbroke's  Monacldsm,  p.  222 ;  Matt.  Paris,  p.  848 ;  Piers  Plow 
man,  2819;  Ware. 


186   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

cient,  the  only  further  punishment  was  expulsion.  The 
terrors  of  immurement  or  torture  seem  unknown. 

In  this  stately  building  the  chief  ceremonials  of  the 
Abbey  were  arranged,  as  they  are  now  in  the  Jerusalem 
Chamber.  Here  were  fixed  the  preliminary  services 
of  the  anniversaries  of  Henry  VII. ;  and  the  Chantry 
monks,  and  the  scholars  to  be  sent  at  his  cost  to  the 
universities,  were  appointed.^ 

It  has  been  well  observed,^  that  the  Chapter  House 
is  an  edifice  and  an  institution  almost  exclusively 
English.  In  the  original  Basilica  the  Apse  was  the 
assembly-place,  where  the  Bishop  sate  in  the  centre 
Chamber  of    of    liis    clcrgv,    and    regulated    ecclesiastical 

the  House  of  °''  °  n         ■       i 

Commons,  affairs.  Such  an  arrangement  was  well  suited 
for  the  delivery  of  a  pastoral  address,  and  for  the  rule 
of  a  despotic  hierarchy,  as  in  the  churches  of  the  Con- 
tinent; but  it  was  not  in  accordance  with  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  idea  of  a  deliberative  assembly,  which  should 
discuss  every  question  as  a  necessary  preliminary  to 
its  being  promulgated  as  a  law.  It  was  therefore  by  a 
natural  sequence  of  thought  that  the  Council  Chamber 
of  the  Abbey  of  Westminster  became  the  Parliament 
House  of  the  English  nation,  the  cradle  of  representa- 
tive and  constitutional  government,  of  Parliament, 
Legislative  Chambers,  and  Congress,  throughout  the 
world. 

At  the  very  time  when  Henry  III.  was  building  the 
Abbey  —  nay,  in  part  as  the  direct  consequence  of  the 
means  which  he  took  to  build  it  —  a  new  institution 
was  called  into  existence,  which  first  was  harboured 
within  the  adjoining  Palace,  and  then  rapidly  became 
too  large  for  the  Palace  to  contain.     As  the  building 

1  Malcolm,  p.  222. 

-  Fergusson's  Handbook  of  Architectia-e,  ii.  53. 


THE   CHAPTER  HOUSE.  187 

of  the  new  St.  Peter's  at  Kome,  by  the  indulgences 
issued  to  provide  for  its  erection,  produced  Rise  of  the 
the  Eeformation,  so  the  building  of  this  new  cdmmous, 
St.  Peter's  at  Westminster,  by  the  enormous  ^'^''' 
sums  which  the  King  exacted  from  his  subjects,  to 
gratify  his   artistic  or  his   devotional  sentiment,  pro- 
duced the   House  of  Commons.     And   the   House   of 
Commons  found  its  first  independent  home  in  the  '  in- 
comparable '   Chapter  House  of  Westminster.     What- 
ever may  be  the  value  of  Wren's  statement,  that  '  the 
Abbot  lent  it  to  the  King  for  the  use  of  the  Commons, 
on  condition  that  the  Crown  should  repair  it,'i  there 
can  be  no  question  that,  from  the  time  of  the  separa- 
tion  of   the    Commons    from    the    Lords,   it  separate 

,      -  .         ,  .  1  9       mi         Meetings  of 

became   their   habitual    meetmg-place.^     Ihe  the  House  of 

Connnons, 

exact  moment  of  the  separation  cannot  per-  i.2S2. 
haps  be  ascertained.     In  the   first   instance,  the  two 
Houses  met  in  Westminster  Hall.     But  they  parted 
as  early  as  the  eleventh   year  of  Edward  I.^     From 
that  time  the  Lords  met  in  the  Painted  Chamber  in 
the  Palace ;  the  Commons,  whenever  they  sate  in  Lon- 
don, within  the  precincts  of  the  Abbey.     Such  secular 
assemblies  had  already  assembled  under  its  shadow, 
though  not  yet  within  the  Chapter   House,  commons  of 
We   find   the   Commons    of    London   in   the  Ji°e"aoiJ-'' 
Cloister  churchyard  in  1263."     The  vast  ob-  *<^'"^'''''- 
long  of  the    Eefectory   naturally  lent   itself   to   large 
gatherings  of   this   kind.     There,  m  a  chamber   only 

1  Elmes's  Life  of  Wren,  Appendix,  p.  110. 

2  It  is  conjectured  by  Carter  {Ancient  Sculptures,  p.  75)  that  the 
Jerusalem  Chamber  of  the  Abbot  was  the  Antioch  Chamber  of  Henry 
HI.  (p.  417),  and  made  over  by  the  Crown  in  exchange  for  the  Chapte* 
House.     But  there  is  no  sufficient  ground  for  this  supposition. 

3  Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  iii.  54. 
^  Liber  de  Antiq.  Legibus,  p.  19. 


188   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

inferior  in  beauty  and  size  to  Westminster  Hall,  Henry 
III.  held  a  great  Council  of  State  in  1244.^  There, 
Councils  of  i^  ^^  assembly,  partly  of  laity,  partly  of 
le^fector^'*^  clergy,^  Edward  I.  insisted  on  a  subsidy  of  a 
^^**'  half  of  their  possessions.     The  consternation 

^^^*'  had   been   so   great,   that    the    Dean   of    St. 

Paul's  had,  in  his  endeavor  to  remonstrate,  dropped 
down  dead  at  King  Edward's  feet.  But  'the  King 
passed  over  this  event  with  indifferent  eyes,'  and  per- 
sisted the  more  vehemently  in  his  demands.  '  The 
consequence  was  that,  .  .  .  after  eating  sour  grapes,  at 
last,  when  they  were  assembled  in  the  Eefectory  of  the 
monks  of  Westminster,  a  knight,  John  Havering  by 
name,  rose  up  and  said,  "  My  venerable  men,  this  is  the 
demand  of  the  King  —  the  annual  half  of  the  revenues 
of  your  chamber.  And  if  any  one  objects  to  this,  let 
him  rise  up  in  the  middle  of  this  assembly,  that  his 
person  may  be  recognised  and  taken  note  of,  as  he  is 
guilty  of  treason  against  the  King's  peace." '  There 
was  silence  at  once.  '  When  they  heard  this,  all  the 
prelates  were  dispirited,  and  immediately  agreed  to 
the  King's  demands.'  ^  In  the  Refectory,  accordingly, 
the  Commons  were  convened,  under  Edward  II.,  when 
they  impeached  Piers  Gaveston ;  and  also  on  several 
usually  in  occasious  during  the  reigns  of  Eichard  II., 
House.^'^  ^^  Henry  IV.,  and  Henry  V.*  But  their  usual 
resort  was  'in  their  ancient  place  the  House  of  the 
Chapter  in  the  Great  Cloister  of  the  Abbey  of  West- 

1  Matt.  Paris,  639. 

2  Chiefly  the  Clergy,  and,  therefore,  perhaps  the  Convocations,  Sep- 
tember 21,  1294      (Parry's  Parliaments,  p.  56.) 

3  Matthew  of  Westminster,  1294. 

*  18  Richard  H.  Parliament  Rolls,  ii.  329;  20  Richard  II.  ibid.  iii. 
338 ,  5  Henry  IV.  ibid  523  ,  2  Henry  V.  ibid.  iv.  34  ;  3  Henry  V.  ibid. 
70. 


THE  CHAPTER  HOUSE.  189 

minster.'  ^  On  one  occasion  a  Parliament  was  summoned 
there,  in  1256,  even  before  the  birth  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  to  grant  a  subsidy  for  Sicily.^  It  i,^^^^^  ge 
is  from  the  reign  of  Edward  III.,  however,  that  ^^^*^" 
these  meetings  of  the  Commons  were  fixed  within  its 
walls.  With  this  coincides  the  date  of  those  curious 
decorations  which  in  that  age  seemed  specially  appro- 
priate. '  Piers  Plowman's  '  ^  vision  of  a  Chapter  House 
was  as  of  a  great  church,  carven  and  covered,  and 
quaintly  entailed,  with  seemly  ceilings  set  aloft,  as  a 
Parliament  House  ^^awi^fccZ  about.  The  Seraphs  that 
adorn  the  chief  stalls,  the  long  series  of  Apocalyptic 
pictures  which  were  added  to  the  lesser  stalls,  were 
evidently  thought  the  fitting  accompaniments  of  the 
great  Council  Chamber.  The  Speaker,*  no  doubt,  took 
his  place  in  the  Abbot's  Stall  facing  the  entrance. 
The  burgesses  and  knights  who  came  up  reluctantly 
from  the  country,  to  the  unwelcome  charge  of  their 
public  business,  must  have  sate  round  the  building  — 
those  who  had  the  best  seats,  in  the  eighty  stalls  of 
the  monks,  the  others  arranged  as  best  they  could. 
To  the  central  pillar  were  attached  placards,  libel- 
lous or  otherwise,  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
members.^ 

The  Acts  of  Parliament  which  the  Chapter  House 
witnessed  derive  a  double  significance  from  the  locality. 

1  25  Edward  III.  Pari  Rolls,  ii.  237 ;  50  Edward  III.  ibid.  322,  327 ; 
51  Edward  III.  ibid.  363 ;  1  Richard  II.  ibid.  iii.  5  ;  2  Richard  II.  ibid. 
33;  8  Richard  II.  ibid.  185.     Coke's  Institutes,  iv.  1. 

2  Ann.  Burt.  386  ;  Hody,  346.     (Parry,  37.) 

3  Piers  Plowman's  Creed,  1.  396,  &c. 

*  The  first  authentic  Speaker,  Peter  de  la  Mare,  was  elected  in 
1377. 

5  See  the  libel,  of  which  two  copies  were  so  affixed,  against  Alex- 
ander Nevile,  Archbishop  of  York  in  the  time  of  Richard  II.  [Arch 
xvi.  80.) 


190   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATIOX. 

A  doubtful  tradition  ^  records  that  the  monks  of  "West- 
minster complained  of  the  disturbance  of  their  devotions 
by  the  noise  and  tumult  of  the  adjoining  Par- 
liament.    Unquestionably  there  is  a  strange 
irony,  if  indeed  it  be  not  rather  a  profounder  wisdom, 
in  the  thought  that  within  this  consecrated  precinct 
were  passed  those  memorable  statutes  which  restrained 
the  power  of  that  very  body  under  whose  shelter  they 
were   discussed.      Here   the   Commons   must 
cumspecte     liavc   asscutcd    to   the    dry   humour   of    the 

A*^atis   1285 

statute  of  '  statute    Circumsvcctc  Agati<i,  which,  whilst  it 

Provisions,  . 

i3oo.  appears  to  grant  the  lesser  privileges  or  the 

statute  of  ^^  ^  /  o       T 

Prfemunire,  clcrgy,  virtually  withholds  the  larger.^  Here 
also  were  enacted  the  Statutes  of  Provisions 
and  of  Praemunire,^  which,  as  Fuller  says,  first  '  pared 
the  Pope's  nails  to  the  quick,  and  then  cut  off  his 
fingers.'  These  ancient  walls  heard  *  the  Commons 
aforesaid  say  the  things  so  attempted  be  clearly  against 
the  King's  crown  and  regality,  used  and  approved  of 
the  time  of  all  his  progenitors,  and  declare  that  they 
and  all  the  liege  Commons  of  the  same  realm  will  stand 
with  our  Lord  the  King  and  his  said  crown  and  his 
regality  in  the  cases  aforesaid,  and  in  all  other  cases 
attempted  against  him,  his  crown,  and  his  regality,  in 
Convention    all  poiuts  to  livc  and  to  die.'     Here  also  was 

of  Henry  v.,  ^ 

1421.  convened  the  Assembly,  half  secular  and  half 

ecclesiastical,  when    Henry   V.    summoned    the   chief 
Benedictine  ecclesiastics  to  consider  the  abuses  of  their 

1  It  is  mentioned  in  Montalembert's  Moines  de  I' Occident,  iv.  432  ; 
but  I  have  never  been  able  to  verify  it. 

-  '  Acknowledged  as  a  statute,  thougfh  not  drawn  in  the  form  of 
one.'  Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  ii.  317;  Fuller's  Church  History,  a.  D. 
1285. 

3  Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  ii.  339,  356  ;  Fuller's  Church  History,  a.  d. 
1350;  Statutes,  25  Edward  III.  c.  6,  16  Richard  II.  c.  5. 


THE   CHAPTER   HOUSE.  191 

order,  consequent   on   the   number   of   young   Abbots 
who  had  lately  succeeded,  after  an  unusual  mortality 
amongst  their  elders.     The  King  himself  was  present, 
with  his  four  councillors.     He  entered  humbly  enough 
{satis  humiliter),  and  with  a  low  bow  to  the  assembly 
sate  down,  doubtless  in  the  Abbot's  Chair,  and  heard  a 
discourse  on  the  subject  by  Edmund  Lacy,  Bishop  of 
Exeter.     Sixty  Abbots  and  Priors  were  there,  seated, 
we   may  suppose,  in  the  stalls,  and   more   than   300 
monks  in  the  body  of  the  house.     The  King  then  rec- 
ommended the  needful  reforms,  and  assured  them  of 
his  protection.!     Here,  in  order  to  be  out  of  the  reach 
of   the  jurisdiction   of   his   brother   Primate,  woise/s 
Wolsey,  as  Cardinal  Legate,  held  his  Legatine  court,  1527. 
Court,  and   with   the  Archbishop  of   Canterbury  and 
other  prelates  sate  in  judgment  on  Thomas  Bilney  and 
Dr.  Barnes,  both  of  them  afterwards  2  burnt  for  their 
Protestant  opinions.     Tonstal,  Bishop  of  London,  sate 
as  his  commissary,  and  received  there  a  humble  re- 
cantation by  a  London  priest,  of  the  heretical  practices 
'of   Martin    Luther   and   his   sect' 3      Here,  T|«Ac^^s^of_ 
finally,  were   enacted   the   scenes   in   which,  atiou. 
during  the  first  epoch  of  the  Eeformation,  the  House 
of  Commons  took  so  prominent  a  part  by  pressing  for- 
ward those  Church  of  England  statutes  which  laid  the 
'foundations  of  the  new  State,'  which  'found  England 
in  dependency  upon  a  foreign  power,  and  left  it  a  free 
nation  ;'  which  gave  the  voice  of  the  nation  for  the  first 
time  its  free  expression  in  the  councils  of  the  Church.'' 

1  Walsingliam,  p.  337 ;    Tyler,  ii.  67 ;  Harleian  ]\IS.,  No.  6064. 
(Malcolm's  Londinium,  p.  230.) 

2  Foxe's  Acts  and  Monuments,  iv.  p.  622. 

8  Strype's  Ecc.  Mem.  i.  109.    See  Chapter  VI. 
4  Froude,  ii.  455,  456. 


192   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFOHMATION. 

Within  the  Chapter  House  must  thus  have  been 
passed  the  first  Clergy  Discipline  Act,  the  first  Clergy 
The  Act  of  Residence  Act,  and  chief  of  all,  the  Act  of 
Submission,  g^^prgj^iacy  and  the  Act  of  Submission.  Here, 
to  acquiesce  in  that  Act,  as  we  shall  see,  met  the  Con- 
vocation of  the  Province  of  Canterbury.^  Beneath  that 
The  Act  of  vaulted  roof  and  before  that  central  pillar 
Suppression,  j^^^^g^  i^^ve  been  placed  the  famous  Black  Book, 
which  sealed  the  fate  of  all  the  monasteries  of  England, 
including  the  Abbey  of  Westminster  close  by,  and 
which  struck  such  a  thrill  of  horror  through  the  House 
pf  Commons  when  they  heard  its  contents.^ 

The  last  time  that  the  Commons  sate  in  the  building 
was  on  the  last  day  of  the  life  of  Henry  VIII.  The 
last  Act  passed  was  the  attainder  of  the  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk ;  and  they  must  have  been  sitting  here  when  the 
news  reached  them  that  the  King  had  died  that  morn- 
ing, and  while  those  preparations  for  the  coronation  of 
Prince  Edward  —  whom  King  Henry  had  designed 
should  be  crowned  before  his  own  death,  in  order  to 
secure  his  succession  —  were  going  on  in  the  Abbey, 
which  was  summarily  broken  off  when  the  news  came 
that  the  King  himself  was  dead.^ 

In  the  year  1540,  when  the  Abbey  was  dissolved, 
the  Chapter  House  became,  what  it  has  ever  since  con- 
Transfer  tinned  to  be,  absolutely  public  and  national 
Capitular  property.  It  is  uncertain  where  the  Dean  and 
tooths  °^  Chapter,  who  then  succeeded,  held  their  first 
Chamber™  mcctings.  But  they  never  could  have  entered 
Hou°seof'  the  Ancient  Chapter  House  by  right  in  the 
St.  Stephen's,  performance  of  any  portion  of  their  duties ; 
and  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  for  all  practical  purposes, 

1  Wake's  State  of  the  Church,  App.  pp.  219,  220.    See  Chapter  VL 

2  Froude,  iv.  520.  8  gee  Chapter  II.  p.  96. 


THE   CHAPTER   HOUSE.  193 

soon  became  'our  Chapter  House.' ^  In  1547,  in  the 
first  year  of  Edward  VI.,  the  Commons  moved  to  the 
Chapel  of  St.  Stephen,^  in  the  Palace  of  Westminster. 
This  splendid  edifice  had  become  vacant  in  consequence 
of  the  suppression  of  the  collegiate  Chapter  of  St. 
Stephen,  which  occupied  the  same  position  in  regard  to 
Westminster  that  the  Chapel  of  St.  George  occupied  to 
Windsor.  From  this  period  we  enter  on  the  third  stage 
of  the  history  of  the  Chapter  House,^  when  the  Govern- 
ment appropriated  it  to  the  preservation  of  the  Public 

1  The  date  of  the  earliest  Chapter  Order  Book  is  1642.  The  Chap- 
ters are  there  said  to  be  held,  and  the  Deans  to  be  installed,  '  in  the 
Chapter  House,'  as  Cox  was  in  1549.  It  was  in  1555  that  the  Jeru- 
salem Chamber  was  first  used  as  a  Chapter  House.  In  the  interval 
between  1540  and  1555  it  was  treated  as  a  separate  habitation,  'the 
house  in  the  which  Mother  Jone  doth  dwell.'  (Walcott's  Inventort/, 
p.  47.)  There  is  no  express  indication  of  any  change  till  1637,  when 
it  is  said,  a  '  Chapter  was  holden,  in  the  usual  place  of  meeting,  for  the 
Collegiate  Church  of  St.  Peter  in  Westminster;'  on  December  13, 
1638,  '  a  Chapter  is  holden  in  Hierusalem  Chamber; '  in  February  16, 
1638-39,  'at  the  accustomed  place.'  The  clause  in  all  leases,  as  far 
back  as  can  be  traced,  and  to  the  present  day,  is,  '  Given  in  the  Chap- 
ter House  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter  at  Westminster.' 

2  The  Chapel  of  St.  Stephen  was  founded  by  King  Stephen.  It 
was  rebuilt  by  Edward  III.,  as  a  thank-offering  after  his  victories,  on 
a  yet  more  splendid  scale  than  St.  George's  at  Windsor.  Its  Canons 
gave  their  name  to  Canon  Row,  sometimes  also  called  St.  Stephen's 
Alley.  Between  this  collegiate  body  and  that  of  the  Abbey  long  dis- 
putes of  jurisdiction  raged,  till  they  were  finally  settled  in  Abbot 
Esteney's  time,  as  recorded  with  much  curious  detail  in  his  Nifjer 
Quartenar.  Tp.  118.  After  the  Dissolution  it  became  the  property  of 
the  Crown  (by  2  Edward  VI.  c.  14),  and  was  granted  for  other  pur- 
poses, probably  from  the  ruiu  into  which  Westminster  Palace  had  then 
recently  fallen  from  fire. 

3  The  only  connection  of  the  Chapter  with  the  Chapter  House  was 
retained  in  two  adjoining  offices.  These  were  erected  by  the  Govern- 
meut  on  ground  belonging  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter,  who  granted  a 
lease  for  forty  years,  from  Michaelmas  1 800,  to  W.  Chinnery,  Esq.  (as 
nominee  on  behalf  of  the  Treasury).  This  lease  expired  on  Michael- 
mas Day  1840.  Since  that  time  the  OflSce  of  Works  has  paid  a  rent  of 
£10  :  1  :  4  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter. 

VOL.  II.  — 13 


194   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

Eecords.     These  records  were  afterwards  still  further 
augmented  at  the  close  of   the  seventeenth  century. 
The°chapter  Down  to  that  time  many  of  the  documents 
S"a  Recofd   wcrc  kept  hi  the  Pyx  Chapel ;  but '  about  the 
?m!'  ^^^^"  year  1697  one  of  the  Prebendaries  of  West- 
minster having  built  a  copper  for  boiling,  just  under 
one  of  the  windows  of  the  Treasury,  such  a  dampness 
was   thereby   occasioned    as   very   much    injured   the 
Eecords,  which  occasioned  the  removal  of  them  into 
the  Chapter  House.' ^      And  again,  an  alarming  fire, 
which  in  1731  broke  out  in  the  Cloisters,  occasioned 
the  removal  of  whatever  documents  had  been  left  in 
the  Chapel  of  the  Pyx,  for  safety,  into  the  Chapter 
House; 2  and  in  order  to  fit  the  building  for  this  pur- 
pose an  upper  storey  was  proposed.     Sir  Christopher 
Wren  had  in  1705  ^Drotested  and  'absolutely  refused  to 
build  any  gallery  for  such  use ; '  but  now  it  was  carried 
out,   for   in    1740  the  groined   roof  was    taken  down 
as   ruinous.^     There   was   a   constant   and    ineffectual 
complaint    maintained    by  the    House    of    Commons 
ao'ainst  the  'eternal  brewhouse  and  the  eternal  wash- 
house'   of  the  Chapter,  as  endangering  the  safety  of 
the  records.     It  began  in  1732,  and  lasted  till  1832, 
and  was  the  subject  of   a  comical  speech  by  Charles 
BuUer. 

But  even  this  period  is  not  without  interest  in  itself, 
and  invests  the  Chapter  House  with  another  series  of 
delightful  historical  associations.  The  unsightly  gal- 
leries, which  long  obstructed  it,  once  contained  the 
Domesday  Book  and   other   like  treasures  of   English 

1  Extract  from  note  in  pocketbook  of  Dr.  G.  Harbin,  librarian  at 
Longleat,  1710. 

2  Palgrave's  Calendars,  vol.  i.  pp.  cxxv.-cxxix.     See  Chapter  VI. 

3  Felix  Summerlv's  Handbook  of  Westminster  Abbey,  43. 


THE   CHArTER    HOUSE.  195 

t 

History.     Here  was  nourished  the  glory  of  three  names 

for  ever  dear  to  English  archaeology  —  Arthur  Agarde, 

Thomas  Eymer,  and  Francis  Palgrave.^ 

Arthur  Agarde  was  '  a  man  known  to  Selden  to  be 

most  painful,  industrious,  and  sufficient  in  things  of 

this  nature,'  and  to  Camden  as  '  antiquarius  insignis! 

He  was  one  of  the  original  members  of  the  Arthur 

Society  of  Antiquaries,  and  there  laboured  in  Sli'Aug. 

company  with  Archbishop  Parker,  Sir  Ptobert  ^*'  ^^^^• 

Cotton  (who  became  his  intimate  friend),  two  whom  he 

must  often  have  met  in  the  Cloisters,  Lancelot  Andre wes 

as  Dean,  and  Camden  as  Headmaster  of  Westminster 

School.     Here  he  toiled  over  the  Domesday  Book  and 

the  Antiquities  of  the  Parliament  which  had  assembled 

in  the  scene  of  his  labours.     Here  he  composed  the 

'  Compendium '  of  the  Records  in  the  adjacent  Treasury, 

where  some  of  the  chests  still  remain  inscribed  as  he 

left  them  ;  and  here,  in  the  Cloisters,  by  the  door  of  the 

Chapter  House,  he  caused  the  monument  to  himself  and 

his  wife  to  be  erected  before  his  death,  in  1615,  in  his 

seventy-fifth  year  — '  Piecordorum  Eegiorum  hie  jjrojjc 

clepositorum  diligens  scrutator.' 

Thomas  Ptymer,  the  historiographer  of  King  "William 
III.,  was  a  constant  pilgrim  to  the  Chapter  House  for 
the  compilation  of  his  valuable  work  on  the  Tho^ms^^^^^ 
Treaties  of  England.  So  carefully  closed  was  ins. 
the  Ptecord  Office  itself,  that  he  had  to  sit  outside  in 
the  vestibule;  and  there,  day  after  day,  out  of  the 
papers  and  parchments  that  were  doled  out  to  him, 
formed  the  solid  folios  of  'Ptymer's  Fcedera.'^ 

Sir  Francis   Palgrave  —  who  can  forget  the  delight 
of  exploring  under  his  guidance  the  treasures  of  which 

1  Bior/.  Brit.  1.  66.  347;  xiv.  164. 

2  Mr.  Burtt,  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  October  1859,  pp.  336-343 


196   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

he  was  the  honoured  guardian  ?  So  dearly  did  he  value 
Francis  the  conuectiou  which,  through  the  Keepership 
diedisei'.  of  the  Records,  he  had  established  with  this 
venerable  edifice,  that,  lest  he  should  seem  to  have 
severed  the  last  link,  he  insisted,  even  after  the  removal 
of  the  Eecords,  on  the  replacement  of  the  direction 
outside  the  door,  which  there  remained  long  after  his 
death  —  'All  letters  and  parcels  addressed  to  Sir  F. 
Palgrave  are  to  be  sent  to  Rolls  Court,  Chancery  Lane.' 
On  the  night  of  the  fire  which  consumed  the  Houses 
of  Parliament  in  1834,^  when  thousands  were  gathered 
below,  watching  the  progress  of  the  flames,  when  the 
waning  affection  for  our  ancient  national  monuments 
seemed  to  be  revived  in  that  crisis  of  their  fate,  when, 
as  the  conflagration  was  driven  by  the  wind  towards 
Westminster  Hall,  the  innumerable  faces  of  that  vast 
multitude,  lighted  up  in  the  broad  glare  with  more 
than  the  light  of  day,  were  visibly  swayed  by  the  agita- 
tion of  the  devouring  breeze,  and  one  voice,  one  prayer 
seemed  to  go  up  from  every  upturned  countenance, 
'  0  save  the  Hall ! '  —  on  that  night  two  small  figures 
might  have  been  seen  standing  on  the  roof  of  the 
Chapter  House  overlooking  the  terrific  blaze,  parted 
from  them  only  by  the  narrow  space  of  Old  Palace 
Yard.  One  was  the  Keeper  of  the  Piecords,  the  other 
was  Dean  Ireland.  They  had  climbed  up  through  the 
hole  in  the  roof  to  witness  the  awful  scene.  Suddenly 
a  gust  of  wind  swept  the  flames  in  that  direction. 
Palgrave,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  the  antiquarian 
and  of  his  own  eager  temperament,  turned  to  the  Dean, 
and  suggested  that  they  should  descend  into  the  Chap- 
ter House  and  carry  off  its  most  valued  treasures  into 

1  I  ov.-e  this  story  partly  to  Lord  Hatherley,  who  witnessed  it  from 
below  ;  and  partly  to  Sir  Francis  Palgrave  himself. 


THE  CHAPTKK   HOUSE   AS   KESXUilED   BY   Slli   GILBERT  SCOTT. 


THE   CHAPTEK   HOUSE.  197 

the  Abbey  for  safety.  Dean  Ireland,  with  the  caution 
belonrnug  at  once  to  his  office  and  his  character,  an- 
swered that  he  could  not  think  of  doing  so  without 
applying  to  Lord  Melbourne,  the  First  Lord  of  the 
Treasury. 

It  was  a  true,  though  grotesque,  expression  of  the 
actual   facts  of   the  case.     The  Government  were  the 
masters  of   the   Chapter   House.     On   them   thus   de- 
volved the   duty  of   its   preservation,   when,  Tj^e^gsto- 
after   its  various   vicissitudes,   it   once  more  cSe"/ 
became  vacant  by  the  removal  of  the  Eecords  ^''"*®'  ^^'^^' 
to  the  Rolls  House.    Then,  in  1865,  in  the  eight  hun- 
dredth anniversary  of   its  own  foundation,  in  the  six 
hundredth   anniversary    of    the   House   of    Commons, 
which  it  had  so  long  sheltered,  a  meeting  of  the  So- 
ciety of  Antiquaries  was  held  within  its  disfigured  and 
deserted  walls,  to  urge  the  duty  of  restoring  it  to  its 
pristine  beauty.     Under  the  auspices  of  Mr.  Gladstone, 
then  Chancellor  of   the  Exchequer,  and   Mr.  Cowper, 
First  Commissioner  of  Works,  the  adequate  sum  was 
granted  by  Parliament,  and  the  venerable  building  has 
become  one  of  the  most  splendid  trophies  of  the  archae- 
ological and  architectural  triumphs  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century.      Its   stained    windows   will    represent    the 
scenes  which  have  interwoven  English   history   with 
the  Abbey.     Its  tables  contain  the  various  local  illus- 
trations of  Westminster. 

Not  far  from  the  Chapter  House  and  Treasury,  and 
curiously  following  their  fortunes,  is  an  ancient  square 
'  Tower,'  which  may  once  have  served  the  pur-  xhe  Jewel 
pose  of  a  monastic  prison,  but  which  was  sold 
to  the  Crown  in  the  last  year  of  Edward  II I.^     It  bears 
in  its  architecture  the  marks  of  the  great  builder  of 

1  Widmore,  174,  231. 


198   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

that  time  —  Abbot  Littlington.^  For  many  years  it 
ThePariia-  ^as  the  King's  Jewel  House.  It  then  be- 
ment  Office,  q^-^^q  '  q^q  Parliament  office,'  —  that  is,  the 
depository  of  the  Acts  of  Parliament,  which  had  been 
passed  either  in  the  adjacent  Chapter  House  or  in  the 
Chapel  of  St.  Stephen.  In  1864  ^  they  were  transferred 
to  the  far  grander  Tower,  bearing  the  name  of  Queen 
Victoria,  and  exhibiting  the  same  enlarged  proportions 
to  the  humble  Tower  of  the  Plantagenets,  that  the 
Empire  of  our  gracious  Sovereign  bears  to  their  dimin- 
utive kingdom.  But  the  gray  fortress  still  remains, 
and  with  the  Treasury  and  the  Chapter  House  forms 
the  triple  link  of  the  English  State  and  Church  with 
the  venerable  past.  Comparing  the  concentration  of 
English  historical  edifices  at  Westminster  with  those 
at  Eome  under  the  Capitol,  as  the  Temple  of  Saturn 
finds  its  likeness  in  the  Treasury,  and  the  Temple  of 
Concord  (where  the  Senate  assembled)  in  the  Chapter 
House  and  Eefectory,  so  the  massive  walls  of  the  Tabu- 
larium,  where  the  decrees  of  the  Senate  were  carefully 
guarded,  correspond  to  the  Square  Tower  of  the  Parlia- 
ment office,  overlooking  the  garden  of  the  Precincts 
from  which  it  has  long  been  parted. 

Erom  the  Jewel  House,  across  the  end  of  the  Garden, 
was  a  pathway  to  the  stream  which  flowed  into  the 
Thames — used  chiefly  for  processions  on  Eogation  days 
and  other  like  holidays  —  over  a  piece  of  ground  which 

1  For  the  architectural  description  of  it,  see  Gleanings,  p.  226.  It  is 
now  nsed  as  the  depository  of  the  standards  of  weights  and  measures, 
in  connection  with  the  Trial  of  the  Pyx. 

2  By  this  removal  was  recovered  the  long-lost  Pra^^er-hook  of  1 662, 
which  had  been  detached  from  the  Act  of  Uniformity,  and  had  lain  hid 
in  some  obscure  corner  of  the  Parliament  Office.  It  was  in  1864  de- 
posited in  the  Chief  Clerk's  Office  in  the  House  of  Lords,  where  it  was 
found  in  1867. 


THE   ANCHORITE.  199 

belonged  to  the  Prior,  but  which  was  left  as  a  kind  of 
waste  plot,  from  its  exposure  to  the  Hoods  both  of 
stream  and  river.  This  corner  of  the  Precincts  was  the 
scene  of  a  curious  story,  which  was,  no  doubt,  often 
told  in  the  Cloister  and  Piefectory.  Not  far  ^j^^ 
from  the  Jewel  House  was  the  cell  of  the  her-  thorite, 
mit  who  1  formed  an  adjunct  of  the  monastic  commun- 
ity —  and  was,  in  successive  generations,  consulted  by 
Henry  III.,  Eichard  II.,  Vnd  Henry  V.  Its  occupant, 
at  the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century,  was  buried  in  a 
leaden  coffin,  in  a  small  adjacent  chapel.  A  certain 
William  Ushborne,  keeper  of  the  adjacent  ushbome 
Palace,  suborned  a  plumber  of  the  convent  to  fishpond, 
dig  up  the  sacred  bones,  which  he  tossed  into  the  well 
in  the  centre  of  the  cloister-cemetery,  and  had  the 
leaden  coffin  conveyed  by  its  iron  clasps  to  his  office. 
The  sacrilege  was  first  visited  on  the  poor  plumber, 
who  was  seized  with  a  sudden  faintness  and  died  in 
Ushborne's  house.  This,  however,  was  but  the  begin- 
ning  of  Ushborne's  crimes.  He  afterwards  contrived  to 
appropriate  the  waste  marsh  just  described,  which  he 
turned  into  a  garden,  with  a  pond  to  preserve  his  own 
fresh  fish.  On  a  certain  fast  day,  the  Vigil  of  St.  Peter 
ad  Vincula,  the  day  before  the  great  conventual  feast 
on  the  fat  bucks  of  Windsor  —  he  invited  his  West- 
minster neighbours  to  a  supper.  Out  of  the  pond  he 
had  fished  a  large  pike.  He  himself  began  upon  it, 
and  after  two  or  three  mouth  fuls  he  screamed  out, 
'  Look  —  look  —  here  is  come  a  fellow  who  is  going  to 
choke  me ; '  and  thus  caught,  '  without  the  viaticum,' 
by  the  very  fish  which  had  been  the  cause  of  his  sacri- 
lege, he  died  on  the  spot  and  was  buried  in  the  Choir 
of  St.  Margaret's.     It  was  a  matter  of  unfeigned  satis- 

1  Lestrange,  in  Nor-Jblk  Archceological  Journal. 


200   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  KEFORMATION. 

faction  that  his  successor,  though  bearing  the  same  ill- 
omened  name  of  William,  was  a  highly  respectable  man, 
'good  and  simple,'  who  made  many  benefactions  to  the 
Abbey,  and  was  buried  just  within  the  Church,  by  the 
basin  for  holy  water  at  the  Cloister  door.^  There  was 
also  a  succession  of  female  anchorites  ('  my  Lady 
Anchoress '),  who  were  the  laundresses  of  the  sacred 
vestments. 

Leaving  these  haunted  spots,  we  return  to  the  Gar- 
den, which  had  been  thus  invaded  and  avenged.  The 
prior's  portion  of  it  was  remarkable  as  having  been 
The  Garden  planted  with  damsou  trees.^  But  the  larger 
Infirmary,  part  of  it,  now  the  College  Garden,  was  the 
pleasure-ground  of  the  Infirmary,  corresponding  to  what 
The  In-  ^^  Canterbury  is  now  called  '  The  Oaks,'  in 
flrraary.  which  the  sick  mouks  took  exercise.  The  In- 
firmary itself,  which  has  almost  totally  disappeared, 
was  almost  a  second  monastery.  The  fragments  of  its 
Norman  arches  show  that  it  belonged  to  the  original 
establishment  of  the  Confessor.  Hither  came  the  pro- 
cessions of  the  Convent  to  see  the  sick  brethren ;  ^  and 
were  greeted  by  a  blazing  fire  in  the  Hall,  and  long 
rows  of  candles  in  the  Chapel.*  Here,  although  not 
only  here,  were  conducted  the  constant  bleedings  of 
the  monks.^  Here,  in  the  Chapel,  the  young  monks 
were  privately  whipped.  Here  the  invalids  were 
soothed  by  music.®  Here  also  lived  the  seven  '  play- 
fellows''  {suiiipcctcc),  the  name  given  to  the  elder 
monks,  who,  after  they  had  passed  fifty  years  in  the 
monastic  profession,  were  exempted  from  all  the  ordi- 

1  Cartulary.  2  ihij. 

8  Ware,  pp.  479,  483.  ^  Ibid.  pp.  264,  265. 

5  Ibid.  pp.  425,  438,  440,  444.  ^  Ibid.  p.  475. 

'  Ibid.  p.  343. 


THE   INFIRMARY.  201 

nary  regulations,  were  never  told  anything  unpleasant, 
and  themselves  took  the  liberty  of  examining  and  cen- 
suring every  thin  g.i 

A  few  arcades  and  pillars  mark  the  position  of  the 
ancient  Hall  and  Chapel  of  the  Infirmary,  which  here, 
as  elsewhere,  has  been  absorbed  into  the  modern  capit- 
ular buildings.  The  Chapel,  of  which  the  proportions 
can  be  imagined  from  the  vast  remains  of  the  corre- 
sponding edifice  at  Canterbury,  was  dedicated  to  St. 
Catherine.  This,  rather  than  the  Abbey  Church  itself, 
was  used  for  such  general  ecclesiastical  solemnities  as 
took  place  in  the  Precincts.  Of  the  thirty-eight  ^  epis- 
copal consecrations  described  before  the  Reformation  as 
performed  in  '  Westminster,'  where  any  special  locality 
is  designated,  we  usually  find  the  Chapel  of  St.  Cath- 

1  The  Chrouicle  so  called  of  Ingulph,  a.  d.  974  ;  Ducange  {voce 
Sempecta)  ;  Fosbroke's  Monachism,  265. 

2  For  the  accurate  statement  of  these  consecrations  I  am  indebted 
to  Professor  Stubbs.  Those  which  are  recorded  as  taking  place  in 
'  Westminster,'  but  without  the  specification  of  particular  localities, 
are  of  Bernard,  Bishop  of  St.  David's,  in  1115;  David  of  Bangor  in 
1120,  Robert  Chichester  of  Exeter  in  1138,  Roger  of  Pontevyne  in  1154, 
Adam  of  St.  Asaph  in  1175,  Henslow,  William  de  Blois  of  Worcester 
in  1218,  John  Fountain  of  Ely  in  1220,  Geoffrey  de  Burgh  of  Ely  in 
1225,  Albert  of  Armagh  in  1248,  Louis  de  Beaumont  of  Durham  in 
1318,  Alexander  Neville  of  York  in  1374,  Walter  Skirlow  of  Lich- 
field in  1386,  Alexander  Bache  of  St.  Asaph  in  1390.  It  is  natural  to 
suppose  that  these  were  consecrated  within  the  precincts  of  the  Abbey, 
and,  if  so,  probably  in  St.  Catherine's  Chapel.  But  the  specification  of 
the  Palaces  of  the  Bishops  of  Carlisle,  Durham,  and  York,  and  of  the 
Chapel  of  St.  Stephen  for  the  remaining  eleven,  between  1327  and 
1535,  makes  it  doubtful  whether  some  of  the  earlier  ones  may  not  also 
have  taken  place  in  private  chapels.  Becket's  election  to  the  primacy, 
1162,  was  recited  and  confirmed  by  Henry  de  Blois  in  the  Refectory. 
(Diceto,  533.)  Baldwin  (1184)  was  elected  by  the  royal  party  against 
the  Canterbury  monks,  in  a  tumultuous  meeting  in  the  Chapter  House 
of  Westminster.  In  order  to  forestall  their  adversaries,  they  rushed  at 
once  with  a  Te  Deura  to  the  Abbey,  kissed  Baldwin  before  the  altar, 
and  returned  him  to  the  king  as  elected.     (Benedict,  415.) 


202   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

erine.  Fifteen  ^  certainly,  probably  more,  were  there 
consecrated.  One,  William  de  Blois,  was  consecrated 
to  Lincoln,  before  the  High  Altar,  in  1203.  Abbot 
Milling  was  consecrated  to  Hereford  in  the  Lady 
Chapel  in  1474,  a  few  years  before  its  destruction  by 
Henry  VII. 

Besides  these  more  individual  solemnities,  St.  Cath- 
erine's Chapel  witnessed  the  larger  part  of  the  provin- 
counciis       cial    Councils   of   Westminster.^     ]\lore   than 

of  West-  ,  til,  •  •  rrn 

minster.  twenty  such  wcrc  held  at  various  times.  Ihe 
most  remarkable  were  as  follows  :  —  In  1076  was  the 
Under  Lan-  asscmbly  for  tlic  deposition  of  Wolfstan,  al- 
un.ie'r  ready  described.     In   1102  Anselm  held  the 

Anseliu, 

1102.  mixed  council  of  lords  spiritual  and  temporal, 

to  issue  canons  against  simony,  against  marriage  of  the 

clergy,  against  the  long  Saxon  hair  of  laymen,  against 

untrained  clergy,  against   archdeacons  who  were   not 

1124.       deacons,   as    well   as    other    graver    offences. 

1138.       Here  these  same  denunciations  were  continued 

1127.        in  three  councils  held  at  Westminster  shortly 

1  These  were  Hugh  of  Lincoln,  afterwards  canonised,  and  William 
of  Worcester,  in  1186 ;  Hubert  Fitzwalter  and  Herbert  le  Poerof  Salis- 
bury, and  Godfrey  of  Winchester,  in  1189  and  1194;  Robert  of  Bangor 
in  1197,  Eustace  of  Ely  in  1198,  William  of  London  in  1199,  Geoffrey 
Hennelaw  of  St.  David's  in  1203,  John  Gray  of  Norwich,  and  Giles 
Braose  of  Hereford  in  1200,  Eustace  of  Loudon  in  1221,  William 
Brewer  of  Exeter  and  Ralph  Neville  of  Chichester  in  1224,  Thomas 
Bluneville  of  Norwich  in  1226.  The  use  of  this  Chapel  is  illustrated 
by  the  fact  that  the  only  consecration  that  took  place  at  Reading  (of 
Le  Poer  to  Chichester,  Juue  25,  1215)  was  in  like  manner  in  the  Infir- 
mary Chapel  of  the  Abbey  of  Reading. 

2  The  twenty-four  Councils  of  Westminster  are  given  in  Moroni's 
Dizionario  delta  Erudizione  ('Westminster')  from  1066  to  1413.  Pro- 
fessor Stubbs  has  called  my  attention  to  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Keinble, 
that  Cloveshoe,  the  scene  of  the  Saxon  Council  in  747,  was  '  at  AVest- 
minster.'  But  he  has  shown  that  the  inference  is  mistaken,  and  that 
the  '  Westminster  '  in  question  was  probably  Westbury  in  Worcester- 
shire. 


COUNCILS  OF   WESTMINSTER.  203 

after,  under  Cardinal  John  of  Crema,  Williams  Arch- 
bishop  of   Canterbury,  and  Albric   of   Ostia,  all   leg- 
ates.i     Here,  four  years  after  the  murder  of  Becket,  in 
the  presence  of  Walter  Humez,  for  the  first  struggle 
time  wearing  the  full  insignia  of  mitred  Abbot,  p^.tates, 
took   place   the   celebrated    contest    between  "'^• 
Richard  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  lioger  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  in  the  struggle  for  precedence,  which  on 
the  occasion  of  the  coronation  of  Henry  IV.'s  son  had 
just  led  to  that  catastrophe.     '  The  Pope's  Legate  was 
present,  on  whose  right  hand  sate  Eichard  of  Canter- 
bury, as  in  his  proper  place ;  when  in  springs  Eoger  of 
York,  and,  finding  Canterbury  ^  so  seated,  fairly  sits  him 
down  on  Canterbury's  lap  —  a  baby  too  big  to  be  danced 
thereon ;  yea,  Canterbury's  servants  dandled  this  large 
child  w^ith  a  witness,  who  plucked  him  from  thence,  and 
buffeted  him  to  purpose.'  ^     Eichard  claimed  the  right 
side  as  belonging  to  his  see  —  Eoger  as  belonging  to  his 
prior  consecration.    In  the  scuffle,  the  northern  primate 
was  seized,  as  he  alleged,  by  the  Bishop  of  Ely,  thrown 
on  his  face,  trampled  down,  beat  with  fists  and  sticks, 
and  severely  bruised.    He  rose,  with  his  cope  torn,*  and 
rushed  into  the  Abbey,  where  he  found  the  King  and 
denounced  to  him  the  two  prelates  of  Canterbury  and 
Ely.     At  last  the  feud  was  reconciled,  on  the  Bishop  of 
Ely's  positive  denial  of  the  outrage,  and  the  two  Pri- 
mates were  bound  by  the  King  to  keep  the  peace  for 
five  years.     It  led  to  the  final  settlement  of  the  ques- 
tion, as  it  has  remained  ever  since,  by  a  Papal  edict, 

1  For  the  strange  stories  of  John  of  Crema,  see  Fuller's  Church 
History,  A.  D.  1102 ;  Eadmer,  iii.  67  ;  Florence  of  Worcester.  See  the 
authorities  in  Robertson's  Histori/  of  the  Church,  iii.  234. 

2  Gervase,  143.3.  ^  Fuller's  Church  Iliston/,  a.  d.  1176. 

<  Brompton,  1109.  The  decrees  of  the  council  are  given  in  Bene- 
dict, i.  97-107. 


204      THE   ABBEY   BEFORE   THE   REEORMATIOIir. 

fiving  to  one  the  title  of  the  Primate  of  All  England, 
to  the  other  of  the  Primate  of  England.^  At  another 
council,  held  apparently  in  the  Precincts,  the 
less  important  precedence  between  the  bishops 
of  London  and  Winchester  was  settled,  London  taking 
the  right,  and  Winchester  the  left  of  the  legate.^  Here, 
in  the  presence  of  Archbishop  (afterwards  Saint)  Ed- 
mund, Henry  III.,  with  the  Gospel  in  one  hand  and  a 
lighted  taper  in  the  other,  swore  to  observe  the  Magna 
Excommu-  Cliarta.  The  Archbishop  and  Prelates,  and 
transgress-  the  King  himself,  dashed  their  candles  on  the 
Charta,i252.  ground,  wliilst  cacli  dignitary  closed  his  nos- 
trils and  his  eyes  against  the  smoke  and  smell,  with  the 
words,  '  So  go  out,  with  smoke  and  stench,  the  accursed 
souls  of  those  who  break  or  pervert  the  Charter.'  To 
which  all  replied,  '  Amen  and  Amen ;  but  none  more 
frequently  or  loudly  than  the  King.'  ^  Yet  '  he  took 
not  away  the  High  Places,'  exclaims  the  honest  chron- 
icler, '  and  again  and  again  he  collected  and  spent  his 
money,  till,  oh  shame !  his  folly  by  constant  repetition 
came  to  be  taken  as  a  matter  of  course.'  Per- 
haps of  all  the  councils  which  the  Precincts 
witnessed  (the  exact  spot  is  not  mentioned)  the  most 
important  was  that  which  sanctioned  the  expulsion  of 
the  Jews  from  England.* 

1  So  in  France  the  Archbishop  of  Lyons  was  styled  by  the  Pope 
'Primate  of  Gaul,' and  the  Archbishop  of  Vienne  'Primate  of  Pri- 
mates.' A  like  rivalry  existed  in  the  Irish  Church,  between  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Armagh  and  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin.  In  the  Protestant 
Church  the  question  has  long  been  determined  in  favour  of  '  the  Lord 
Primate  of  Armagh.'  But  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  even  the 
See  of  Rome  has  not  ventured  to  decide  between  the  two  rivals.  (Fitz- 
Patrick's  Doyle,  ii.  76.) 

2  Diceto,  656.     Another  was  held  in  1200.     (Ibid.  707.) 

3  Matt.  Paris,  p.  742.     Grossetete,  Letters,  72,  p.  236,  ed.  Luard. 
*  Hardouiu's  Concilia,  a.  d.  1290.     Pauli,  iv.  53. 


GEOWTH  OF  ENGLISH.  205 

We  have  now  traversed  the  monastic  Precincts.  We 
woukl  fain  have  traced  in  them,  as  in  the  Abbey  itself, 
the  course  of  English  history.  But  it  has  not  been 
possible.  Isolated  incidents  of  general  interest  are  in- 
terwoven with  the  growth  of  the  Convent,  but  noth- 
ing more,  unless  it  be  the  gradual  rise  of  the  ^^^^^^^^  ^^ 
English  character  and  language.  It  was  at  Ei'sUsb." 
first  strictly  a  Norman  histitution.  As  a  general  rule, 
English  was  never  to  be  spoken  in  common  conversa- 
tion— nor  even  Latin  — nothing  but  French.  And  the 
double  defeat  of  the  Saxons,  first  from  the  Danes  at 
Assenden,  and  then  from  the  Normans  at  Hastings, 
was  carefully  commemorated.  But  still  the  tradition 
of  the  English  Saxon  home  of  St.  Edward  lingered.  It 
is  expressly  noted  that  the  ancient  Saxon  practice  of 
raising  the  cup  from  the  table  with  both  hands,  which 
had  prevailed  before  the  Norman  Conquest,  still  con- 
tinued at  the  monastic  suppers.  One  of  the  earliest 
specimens  of  the  English  language  is  the  form  of 
vow,  which  is  permitted  to  those  who  cannot  speak 
French,  '  Hie  frere  N.  hys  hole  stedfastness  and  chaste 
lyf,  at  fore  God  and  alle  hys  halewen,  and  pat  hie 
sallen  bonsum  ^  liven  withouten  properte  all  my  lyf 
tyme.' 

Neither  can  we  arrive  at  any  certain  knowledge  of 
their  obedience  or  disobedience  to  the  rules  of  their 
order.  Only  now  and  then,  through  edicts  of 
kings  2  and  abbots,  we  discern  the  difficulty  of  ^''°'p^'"'- 
restraining  the  monks  from  galloping  over  the  country 
away  from  conventual  restraint,  or,  in  the  popular 
legends,  engaged  in  brawls  with  a  traditionary  giantess 

1  This  is  a  translation  of  the  French  '  k  ki  je  serai  obedient.'    Wara 
c.  26. 

^  Archives. 


206      THE   ABBEY   BEFORE   THE   REFORMATION. 

and  virago  of  the  place  in  Henry  VIII.'s  reign  —  Long 
Meg  of  Westminster.^ 

We  ask  in  vain  for  the  peculiarities  of  the  several 
Chapels  which  sprang  up  round  the  Shrine,  or  for  the 
sieciai  general  appearance  of  the  worship.  The  faint 
devotions,  allusious  in  Abbot  Ware's  rules  reveal  here 
and  there  the  gleam  of  a  lamp  burning  at  this  or  that 
altar,  or  at  the  tomb  of  Henry  III.,  and  of  the  two 
Saxon  Queens,  or  in  the  four  corners  of  the  Cloisters  or 
in  the  Chapter  House.  We  see  at  certain  times  the 
choir  hung  with  ivy,  rushes,  and  mint.  We  detect  at 
night  the  watchers,  with  lights  by  their  sides,  sleeping 
in  the  Church.^  A  lofty  Crucifix  met  the  eyes  of  those 
who  entered  through  the  North  Transept ;  another  rose 
above  the  High  Altar ;  ^  another,  deeply  venerated,  in 
the  Chapel  of  St.  Paul.  We  catch  indications  of  altars 
of  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury,  of  St.  Helena,  of  the  Holy 
Trinity,  and  of  the  Holy  Cross,  of  which  the  very  mem- 
ory has  perished.  The  altar  of  St.  Faith  ^  stood  in  the 
Eevestry  ;  the  chapel  and  altar  of  St.  Blaize 

Relics  

in  the  South  Transept.     The  relics  ^  given  by 
Henry  III.  and   Edward   I.  have   been   already  men- 

1  Tract  on  Long  Meg  of  Westminster,  in  Miscellanea  Antiqua  An- 
glicana.     See  Ben  Jonson's  Fortunate  Isles :  — 

'  Or  Westminster  Meg, 
With  her  long  leg, 
As  long  as  a  crane. 
And  feet  like  a  flame,'  etc. 

(viii.  78.) 

She  is  introduced  as  a  character  on  the  stage  in  that  masque  with 
Skelton. 

2  Ware.  3  Chapter  IV.  and  Islip  Roll. 

■*  This  had  already  been  conjectured  by  Sir  Gilbert  Scott  from  the 
fresco  of  a  female  saint  with  the  emblems  of  St.  Faith,  a  book  and  an 
iron  rod;  and  the  statement  in  Ware  that  the  Altar  of  St.  Faith  was 
under  the  charge  of  the  Revestiarius,  puts  it  beyond  doubt.  (See  Old 
London,  p.  146  ;   Gleanings,  p.  47.) 

^  For  the  whole  list  see  Flete,  c.  xiv. 


ITS   SPECIAL   DEVOTIONS.  207 

tioned;  the  Pliial  of  the  Sacred  Blood,  the  Girdle  of 
the  Virgin,  the  tooth  of  St.  Athanasius,  the  head  of  St. 
Benedict.  And  we  have  seen  their  removal  i  from  place 
to  place,  as  the  royal  tombs  encroached  upon  them  ; 
how  they  occupied  first  the  place  of  honour  eastward 
of  the  Confessor's  shrine ;  then,  in  order  to  make  way 
for  Henry  V.'s  chantry,  were  transported  to  the  space 
between  the  shrine  and  the  tomb  of  Henry  III.,  whence 
they  were  again  dislodged,  or  threatened  to  be  dislodged, 
by  the  intended  tomb  of  Henry  VI.  A  spot  of  peculiar 
sanctity  existed  from  the  times  of  the  first  Norman 
kings,  which  perhaps  can  still  be  identified  on  the 
south-eastern  side  of  the  Abbey.  Egelric,  Grave  of 
Bishop  of  Durham  in  the  time  of  the  Confes-  lorV""' 
sor,  was  a  characteristic  victim  of  the  vicissitudes  of 
that  troubled  period.  Elevated  from  the  monastery  of 
Peterborough,  in  1041,  to  the  see  of  York,  he  was  driven 
from  his  newly-acquired  dignity,  by  the  '  almost  natu- 
ral'jealousy  of  the  seculars,  and  degraded  in  1042,  if 
such  an  expression  may  be  used,  to  the  hardly  less 
important  see  of  Durham.  From  Durham  he  was 
expelled  by  the  same  influence  in  1045,  and  again  re- 
stored by  the  influence  of  Siward  of  Northumberland. ^ 
In  1056  he  resigned  his  see  and  retired  to  his  old 
haunts  at  Peterborough.  There,  either  from  suspicion 
of  malversation  of  the  revenues  of  Durham,  or  of  trea- 
sonable excommunications  at  Peterborough,  he  was,  in 
1069,  arrested  by  order  of  the  Conqueror,  and  impris- 
oned at  "Westminster.  He  lived  there  for  two  years, 
during  which,  '  by  fasting  and  tears,  he  so  attenuated 

1  Occasionally  they  were  lent  out  by  the  monks.     See  Appendix. 

2  Simeon  of  Durham;  (Hist.  Eccl.  Din:  iii.  6;)  Worcester  Chron., 
A.D.  1073;  Peterborough  Chron.,  a.  D.  1072;  An7i.  Wav.,  A.  D.  1072; 
Flor.  Wig.,  A.  d.  1072 ;  Hugo  Candidus,  p.  45. 


208   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

and  purged  away  his  former  crimes  as  to  acquire  a  rep- 
utation for  sanctity,'  and,  on  his  death  in  1072,  was 
buried  in  the  porch  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas,^ 
ordering  his  fetters  to  be  buried  with  him,  to  increase 
his  chance  of  a  martyr's  glory.  This  is  the  earliest  men- 
tion of  that  Chapel.  The  grave  which,  seventy  years 
after,  '  was  honoured  by  the  vows  and  prayers  of  pil- 
grims,' is  therefore  probably  under  the  southern  wall  of 
the  Abbey ;  and  it  is  an  interesting  thought  that  in  the 
stone  coffin  recently  found  near  that  spot  we 
may  perhaps  have  seen  the  skeleton  of  the 
sanctified  prisoner  Egelric. 

The  Confessor's  shrine  was,  however,  of  course  the 
chief  object.  But  no  Chaucer  has  told  us  of  the  pil- 
grimages to  it,  whether  few  or  many  :  no  record  reveals 
to  us  the  sentiments  which  animated  the  inmates  of  the 
Convent,  or  the  congregations  who  worshipped  within 
its  walls,  towards  the  splendid  edifice  of  which  it  was 
the  centre.  The  Bohemian  travellers  in  the  fifteenth 
century  record  the  admiration  inspired  by  the  golden 
sepulchre  of  '  St.  Keuhard,'  or  '  St.  Edward,'  '  the  ceiling 
more  delicate  and  elegant  than  they  had  seen  else- 
where ; '  '  the  musical  service  lovely  to  hear ; '  and, 
above  all,  the  unparalleled  number  of  relics, '  so  numer- 
ous that  two  scribes  writing  for  two  wrecks  could  hardly 
make  a  catalogue  of  them.' 

In  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century  we  can  see  the 
conventual  artists  ^  hard  at  work  in  beautifying  the 
various  Chapels.  Their  ceilings,  their  images, 
were  all  newly  painted.  An  alabaster  image 
of  the  Virgin  was  placed  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Paul,  and 
a  picture  of  the  Dedication  of  the  Abbey.  Over  the 
tomb  of  Sebert  were  placed  pictures,  probably  those 

^  Malmesbury,  De  Gest.  Pont.  Amjl.  iii.  2  Cartulary. 


PROCESSION  OF   WOLSEY'S   HAT.  209 

"which,  still  exist.  Then  was  added  the  Apocalyptic 
series  round  the  walls  of  the  Chapter  House.  Then  we 
read  of  a  splendid  new  Service  Book,  highly  decorated 
and  illuminated,  and  presented,  by  subscriptions  from 
the  Abbot  and  eight  monks.  As  the  end  draws  near, 
there  is  no  slackening  of  artistic  zeal.  As  we  have 
seen,  no  Abbot  was  more  devoted  to  the  work  of  deco- 
ration and  repair  than  Islip,  and  of  all  the  grand  cere- 
monials of  the  Middle  Ages  in  the  Abbey,  there  is  none 
of  which  we  have  a  fuller  description  than  that  one 
which  contains  within  itself  all  the  preludes  of  the 
end. 

For  it  was  when  Islip  was  Abbot  that  there  arrived 
for  Wolsey  the  Cardinal's  red  hat  from  Rome.  He 
'  thought  it  for  his   honour   meet '  ^  that  so  Reception 

.     ,  of  Wolsey's 

high  a  jewel  should  not  be  conveyed  by  so  Hat,  isis. 
simple  a  messenger  as  popular  rumour  had  imagined, 
and  accordingly  '  caused  him  to  be  stayed  by  the  way, 
and  newly  furnished  in  all  manner  of  apparel,  with  all 
kinds  of  costly  silks  which  seemed  decent  for  such  high 
ambassador.'  That  done,  he  was  met  at  Blackheath, 
and  escorted  in  pomp  to  London.  '  There  was  great 
and  speedy  provision  and  preparation  made  in  West- 
minster Abbey  for  the  confirmation  of  his  high  dig- 
nity .  .  .  which  was  done,'  says  his  biographer,  '  in  so 
solemn  a  wise  as  I  have  not  seen  the  like  unless  it 
had  been  at  the  coronation  of  a  mighty  prince  or  king.' 
We  can  hardly  doubt  that  he  chose  the  Abbey  now, 
as,  on  a  subsequent  occasion,  for  the  convocation  of 
York,  in  order  to  be  in  a  place  beyond  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  rival  primate.  What  follows  shows  1515. 
how  completely  he  succeeded  in  establishing 
his  new  precedence  over  the  older  dignity.     On  Thurs- 

1  Cavendish's  Wolsey,  29,  30. 
VOL.  II.  — 14 


210   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

day,  Nov.  15,  the  prothonotary  entered  London  with  the 
Hat  in  his  hand,  attended  by  a  splendid  escort  of  prel- 
ates and  nobles,  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  riding  on  his 
right,  and  the  Earl  of  Essex  on  his  left,  '  having  with 
them  six  horses  or  above,  and  they  all  well  becoming, 
and  keeping  a  good  order  in  their  proceeding.'  '  The 
Mayor  of  London  and  the  Aldermen  on  horseback  in 
Cheapside,  and  the  craft  stood  in  the  street,  after  their 
custom.'  It  was  an  arrival  such  as  we  have  seen  but 
once  in  our  day,  of  a  beautiful  Princess  coming  from  a 
foreign  land  to  be  received  as  a  daughter  of  England, 
At  the  head  of  this  procession  the  Hat  moved  on,  and 
'  when  the  said  Hatt  was  come  to  the  Abbey  of  West- 
minster,' at  the  great  north  entrance,  it  was  welcomed 
by  the  Abbot  Islip,  and  beside  him,  the  Abbots  of  St. 
Albans,  Bury,  Glastonbury,  Eeading,  Gloucester,  Win- 
chester, Tewkesbury,  and  the  Prior  of  Coventry,  '  all  in 
pontificalibus.'  By  them  the  Hat  was  honourably  re- 
ceived, and  '  conveyed  to  the  High  Altar,  where  it  was 
sett.'  ^  On  Sunday  the  18th  the  Cardinal, 
with  a  splendid  retinue  on  horseback, '  knights, 
barons,  bishops,  earls,  dukes,  and  archbishops,'  came 
between  eight  and  nine  from  his  palace  by  Charing 
Cross.  They  dismounted  at  the  north  door,  and  '  went 
to  the  High  Altar,  where,  on  the  south  side,  was  ordained 
a  goodly  traverse  for  my  Lord  Cardinal,  and  when  his 
Grace  was  come  into  it,'  then,  as  if  after  waiting  for  a 
personage  more  than  royal,  '  immediately  began  the  mass 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  sung  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury (Warham).  The  Bishop  of  Eochester  (Fisher) 
acted  as  crosier  to  my  Lord  of  Canterbury.'  The  Bishop 
of  Lincoln  read  the  Gospel,  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  the 

1  '  After  its  long  and  fatiguing  journey  from  Italy.'    See  the  humor- 
ous narrative  iu  Hook's  Archbishops  of  Canterbury,  v.  250. 


PROCESSION  OF  WOLSEY'S  HAT.  211 

Epistle.  Besides  the  eight  Abbots  were  present  the 
Archbishops  of  Armagh  and  Dublin,  and  the  Bishops 
of  Winchester,  Durham,  Norwich,  Ely,  and  Llandaff. 
Colet,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  '  made  a  brief  collation  or 
proposition,'  explaining  the  causes  of  '  his  high  and  joy- 
ous promotion,'  the  dignities  of  a  prince  and  bishop, 
and  also  '  the  high  and  great  power  of  a  Cardinal ; '  and 
'  how  he  betokeneth  the  free  beams  of  wisdom  and 
charity  which  the  apostles  received  from  the  Holy 
Ghost  on  Whit  Sunday  ;  and  how  a  Cardinal  represent- 
eth  the  order  of  Seraphim,  which  continually  increaseth 
in  the  love  of  the  glorious  Trinity,  and  for  this  consid- 
eration a  Cardinal  is  only  apparelled  with  red,  which 
colour  only  betokeneth  nobleness.'  His  short  discourse 
closed  with  an  exhortation  to  my  Lord  Cardinal  in  this 
wise :  '  My  Lord  Cardinal,  be  glad  and  enforce  yourself 
always  to  do  and  execute  righteously  to  rich  and  poor, 
and  mercy  with  truth.'  Then,  after  the  reading  of  the 
Bull,  '  at  Agnus  Dei,  came  forth  of  his  traverse  my 
Lord  Cardinal,  and  kneeled  before  the  middle  of  the 
High  Altar,  where  for  a  certain  time  he  lay  grovellmg, 
his  hood  over  his  head  during  benediction  and  prayers 
concerning  the  high  creation  of  a  Cardinal,'  said  over 
him  by  Archbishop  Warham,  '  which  also  sett  the  Hatt 
upon  his  head.'  Then  Te  Deum  was  sung.  '  All  ser- 
vices and  ceremonies  finished,  my  Lord  came  to  the 
door  before  named,  led  by  the  Dukes  of  Norfolk  and 
Suffolk,  where  his  Grace  with  all  the  noblemen  as- 
cended upon  their  horses,  and  in  good  order  proceeded 
to  his  place  by  Charing  Cross,  preceding  it  the  mace, 
such  as  belongeth  to  a  Cardinal  to  have ;  and  my  Lord 
of  Canterbury '  (the  latest  historian  ^  of  the  Primates 
with  true  English  pride  adds,  '  one  almost  revolts  from 

1  Hook,  V.  253. 


212   THE  ABBEY  BEFOKE  THE  REFORMATION. 

writing  the  fact '  ),  '  having  no  cross  before  him.'  ^  We 
need  not  follow  them  to  the  splendid  banquet.  It  is 
enough  for  the  Abbey  to  have  been  selected  as  the  scene 
of  the  Cardinal's  triumphant  day,  to  have  thus  seen  the 
full  magnificence  at  once  of  the  Papal  hierarchy  and  of 
the  Kevival  of  Letters,  and  to  have  heard  in  the  still 
small  accents  of  Colet  the  whisper  of  the  coming  storm, 
and  have  welcomed  in  the  Cardinal  Legate  the  first 
great  dissolver  of  monasteries.^ 

But  the  precincts  of  Westminster  had  already  shel- 
tered the  power  which  was  to  outshine  the  hats  of  car- 
dinals and  the  crosiers  of  prelates,  and  to  bring  out  into 
a  new  light  all  that  was  worthy  of  preservation  in  the 

caxton's  Abbey  itself.  '  William  Caxton,  who  first  in- 
printing  IT-  r-t  -n 

press,  1477.  troduccd  mto  Great  Britain  the  art  of  print- 
ing, exercised  that  art  a.  d.  1477,  or  earlier,  in  the 
Abbey  of  Westminster.'  ^  So  speaks  the  epitaph,  de- 
signed originally  for  the  walls  of  the  Abbey,  now  erected 
by  the  Eoxburghe  Club  near  the  grave  in  St.  Margaret's 
Church,  which  received  his  remains  in  1491.  His 
press  was  near  the  house  which  he  occupied  in  the 
Almonry,  by  the  Chapel  of  St.  Anne.'^     This  ecclesiasti- 

1  Cavendish's  Wolsey,  ii.  301.     MS.  from  the  Heralds'  Office. 

2  Wolsey  visited  the  Abbey  as  Legate  in  1518  and  1525.  *Ex 
improvise,  severe,  intemperanter,  omnia  agit ;  miscet,  turbat,  ut  terreat 
cffiteros,  ut  imperium  ostendat,  ut  se  terribilem  prabeat ; '  Polydore 
Vergil.     (Dugdale,  i.  278.) 

3  The  words  '  in  the  Abbey  of  Westminster '  are  taken  from  the 
titlepages  of  Caxton's  books  in  1480,  1481,  and  1484.  The  special 
locality,  at  the  Red  Pale  near  St.  Anne's  Chapel  in  the  Almonry,  is 
given  in  Stow,  p.  476  ;  Walcott,  p.  279.  The  only  Abbot  with  whom 
he  had  any  relations  was  Esteney.     {Life  of  Caxton,  i.  62-66.) 

*  Amongst  the  curiosities  of  natural  history  in  the  Abbey,  connected 
Colony  of  with  Caxton's  press,  are  the  corpses  of  a  colony  of  rats  found 
rats.  ijj  a  hole  in  the  Triforium.     They  had  in  successive  genera- 

tions carried  off  fragments  of  paper,  beginning  with  mediseval  copy- 
books, then  of  Caxton's  first  printed  works,  ranging  down  to  the  time 


CAXTON'S  PRINTING  PRESS.  213 

cal  origin  of  the  first  English  Printing-press  is  perpetu- 
ated in  the  name  of  '  the  Chapel,'  given  by  printers  to  a 
congress  or  meeting  of  their  body  ;  perhaps  also  by  the 
use  of  the  terms  'justification,'  'monking'  and  'friar- 
ing,'  as  applied  to  operations  of  printing.  Victor  Hugo, 
in  a  famous  passage  of  his  '  Notre  Dame  de  Paris,'  de- 
scribes how  'the  Book  killed  the  Church.'  The  con- 
nection of  Caxton  with  the  Abbey  gives  to  this  thought 
another  and  a  kindlier  turn  — '  The  Church  (or  the 
Chapel)  has  given  life  to  the  Book.'  In  this  sense,  if 
in  no  other,  Westminster  Abbey  has  been  the  source  of 
enlightenment  to  England,  beyond  any  other  spot  in 
the  Empire  ;  and  the  growth  of  this  new  world  within 
its  walls  opens  the  way  to  the  next  stage  in  its  history. 

of  Queen  Anne.  Then,  probably  during  the  repairs  of  Wren,  the  hole 
was  closed,  and  the  depredations  ceased,  and  the  skeletons  alone  re- 
mained. These,  with  other  like  curiosities,  are  now  in  the  Chapter 
House. 


THE  ABBEY   SINCE   THE   EEFOEMATIOK 

Something  ere  the  end, 
Some  work  of  noble  note  may  yet  be  done  ; 
'T  is  not  too  late  to  seek  a  newer  world  .  .  . 
Made  weak  by  time  and  fate,  but  strong  in  will, 
To  strive,  to  seek,  to  find,  and  not  to  yield. 

Tennyson's  Ulysses. 


SPECIAL   AUTHORITIES. 

The  special  authorities  for  this  period  are  :  — 

I.  The  Chapter  Books,  from  1542  to  the  present  time. 

II.  Racket's  Life  of  Ai'chbishoj)  Williams. 

III.  Heylin's  Life  of  Laud. 

IV.  Bernard's  Life  ofHeylin. 
V.  Attei-hury's  Life  and  Letters. 

VI.   Life  of  Bishop  Newton,  by  himself. 
VII.    Lives  of  South,  Thomas,  and  Vincent,  prefixed  to  their 
Works. 
VIII.   Carter's  Articles  in  the  Gentleman's  Mar/azine  of  1799- 
1800. 
IX.    Census  Alumnorum  Westmonasteriensium. 
X.   Lusus  Alteri  Westmonasterienses,  1st  and  2nd  series. 
XI.   A  utohiography  of  William  Tasivell,  in  the  Camden  Soci- 
ety, vol.  ii.  1852. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE  EEFOEMATION. 

THE  Dissolution  of  tlie  Abbey  ^  and  Monastery  of 
St.  Peter,  like  all  the  acts  of  the  first  stage  of  the 
Eeformation,  was  effected  with  a  silence  only  The  Dissoiu- 
explicable  by  the  long  expectation  with  which  Moua°stei^, 
their  approach  was  prepared.  The  first  book,  1539-40' 
containing  the  orders  of  the  new  Dean  and  Chapter, 
which  begins  in  1542,  quietly  opens  with  the  record  of 
leases  and  meetings  for  business.  The  services  of  the 
Eoman  Church  continued  unchanged  through  the  re- 
maining years  of  Henry  VIII.  Three  masses  a  day 
were  said  —  in  St.  John's  Chapel,  the  Lady  Chapel,  and 
at  the  High  Altar.  The  dirge  still  sounded,  and  the 
waxlights  still  burned,  on  Henry  VII.'s  anniversaries. 
Under  Edward  VI.  the  change  is  indicated  by  an  order 
to  sell  the  brass  lecterns,  and  copper-gilt  candlesticks, 
and  angels,  '  as  monuments  of  idolatry,'  with  an  injunc- 
tion, which  one  is  glad  to  read,  that  the  proceeds  are 
to  be  devoted  '  to  the  Library  and  buying  of  books.'  ^ 
In  like  manner,  '  Communion '  is  silently  substituted 
for  '  mass,'  and  '  surplices  and  hoods '  for  the  ancient 
vestments. 

The  institution  passed  into  its  new  stage  at  once, 
and  its  progress  is  chiefly  marked  by  the  dismember- 

1  The  value  of  the  property  according  to  Speed  was  £3,977,  accord- 
ing to  Dugdale  £3,471. 

2  Chapter  Book,  1547-1549. 


218         THE  ABBEY   SINCE   THE   EEEORMATION. 

ment  and  reconstruction  of  the  mighty  skeleton,^  which 
was  to  be  slowly  reanimated  with  a  new  life.  Here,  as 
at  Canterbury  and  elsewhere,  in  the  newly-constructed 
Chapters,  a  School  was  founded,  of  which  the  scholar- 
ships were,  in  the  first  instance,  given  away  by  ballot 
of  the  Dean  and  Prebendaries.'-^  Twenty  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  scholars,  and  the  payment  of  the  Eoyal 
Professorships,  were  charged  on  the  Chapter. 

The  Abbot  was  converted  into  a  Dean.  The  Monks 
were  succeeded  by  twelve  Prebendaries,  each  to  be 
present  daily  in  the  Choir,  and  to  preach  once  a 
quarter.^  Every  Saturday  in  the  year  there  was  to  be 
a  meeting  in  the  Chapter  House.*  But  now,  for  the 
The  cathe-  ^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^°®  ^^^®  Abbey  had  established  its 
the'mshop  original  independence,  the  head  of  the  Chapter 
mii^te^  was  subjected  to  a  bishop,  who  resided  in  the 
Dec.  18, 1540.  ancient  Abbot's  House,  the  Dean  living  amongst 
the  ruins  of  the  old  Misericorde.^  This  prelate  was  en- 
titled '  the  Bishop  of  Westminster,'  and  his  diocese  in- 
^j,jj.j,^  eluded  the  whole  of  Middlesex,  except  Fulham ; 
1540-60.'  go  ^Y^g^^  i^Q  ^as,  in  fact,  the  chief  prelate  of  the 
metropolis.^    The  consecration  of  Thirlby  to  this  newly- 

1  Amongst  the  buildings  thus  mentioned  are  'the  old  Dovehouse,' 
'  the  Hall  wherein  the  tomb  is,'  '  Patch's  House '  {qu.  for  Wolsey's 
Fool),  'Row's  House,'  '  Canterbury,'  '  door  from  the  Plumbery  into  the 
Abbey,'  and  'the  Long  House,'  adjoining  to  the  Cloisters.  This  last 
was  probably  the  line  of  buildings  ou  the  east  side  of  Dean's  Yard. 
(Chapter  Book,  1542-1552.)  The  tapestries  and  furniture  of  the  Jeru- 
salem Chamber  were  bought  at  low  prices  by  the  Bishop  and  Dean. 
(Inventory.)  ^  Chapter  Book,  1547-1549. 

3  lb.  1547.  *  lb.  15-19-     See  Chapter  V. 

8  Ashburnham  House  was  called  of  old  time,  doubtless  from  this 
occupation,  '  the  Dean's  House.' 

6  From  this  temporary  see  arose  the  title  of  '  the  city '  of  Westmin- 
ster. (Dugdale,  i.  321,  322.)  The  Abbey  of  Westminster  and  Cathe- 
dral of  St.  Paul  are  'metropolitan,'  as  being  the  chief  churches  of 
the  metropolis.      The  Cathedrals  of  Canterbury  and  York  are  not 


THE  CATHEDRAL  UNDER  EDWARD  VI.         219 

created  see  may  be  taken  as  the  starting-point  of  the  new 
series  of  episcopal  consecrations  in  the  Abbey.    Cranmer 
had  indeed  been  dedicated  to  his  office  close  by,  consecrated, 
in  the  Eoyal  Chapel  of  St.  Stephen  —  ^  char-  d^c.  19,1540. 
acteristically  within   the   immediate  residence  of   the 
Eeforming  Sovereign.     But,  from  that  time  till  recent 
days,  all  such  consecrations  as  took  place  in  West- 
minster  were   in   the   Chapel   of   Henry   VII.     That 
gorgeous  building,  just  clear  from  the  hands  of   the 
workmen, —  ' St.  Saviours  2  Chapel,'  as  it  was  called, 
to   avoid   the   now  questionable  name  of   'the   Lady 
Ci^apel,'  —  was  henceforth  destined  to  play  the  same 
part  which  St.  Catherine's  Chapel  had  played  hitherto, 
as  a  sacred  edifice  belonging  to  the  Abbey  and  yet  not 
identical  with  it,  used  not  for  its  general  worship,  but 
for  all  special  solemnities.     Here  Thurlby  was  consecratiou 
consecrated   in  what   now   became   his   own  May's!  1545 : 
cathedral  to  the  see  of  Westminster,  and  the  not.°2^7'''' 
time-serving  Kitchin  and  his  successor  Godwin 
to  the  see  of  Llandaff.     But  the  one  solitary  episcopate 
of  Westminster  is  not  of  good  omen  for  its  revival. 
Thirlby  was  a  man  of  amiable  but  feeble  character,  and 
the  diocese,  after  ten  years,  was  merged  m  the  See  of 
London.3    Thirlby  was  translated,  first   to  Norwich  * 

'metropolitan,'  but  '  metropolitical,'  as  being  the  seats  of  the  two 

Metropolitans.  „   ,,.,^     /~>v 

1  Courtenay  was  consecrated  there  to  Exeter,  Nov.  8,  1476  ;  Oliver 
King  to  Exeter,  Eeb.  3,  1493 ;  and  Shaxton  to  Salisbury,  April  11, 1535. 

2  '  In  St.  Saviour's  Chapel,  near  the  sepulchre  of  Henry  VII.'  Strype. 
Cranmer,  c.  23.     So  St.  Mary's,  in  Southwark,  became  St.  Saviour's, 

3  He  was  with  Bonner,  on  the  melancholy  commission  for  the  deg- 
radation of  Cranmer,  and  did  his  utmost  to  moderate  his  colleague's 

^  '°4^  When  Bishop  of  Norwich  he  had  the  house  in  the  Westminster 
Precincts,  which  the  Dean  had  occupied,  and  which  was  afterwards 
occupied  by  Sir  R.  Cotton.     (Chapter  Book,  1552.) 


220         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

in  1550,  and  then  to  Ely  in  1554;  and  after  the  acces- 
sion of  Elizabeth  lived  partly  as  guest,  partly  as  pris- 
oner, at  Lambeth,  where  he  lies  buried  in  the  chancel 
of  the  parish  church  ^  with  his  cross  in  his  hand,  and 
his  hat  under  his  arm.^ 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that,  out  of  the  appropriation 
of  the  estates  ^  of  Westminster  to  fill  up  the  needs  of 
One  of  the  Loudou,  the  provcrb  arose  of  'robbing  Peter 
poman  ^°'  to  pay  Paul,'  *  a  proverb  which,  indeed,  then 
under  the  Carried  with  it  the  fullest  significance  that  the 
LondOT°       words  can  bear.     The  old,  original,  venerable 

1550 

Bobbing       Apostle  of  tlic  first  ages  had  lost  his  hold,  and 

Peter  to 

pay  Paul.  tlic  ucw  independent  Apostle  of  the  commg 
ages  was  riding  on  the  whirlwind.  The  idea  of  a 
Church  where  the  Catholic  Peter  and  the  Pteforming 
Paul  could  both  be  honoured,  had  not  yet  entered  into 
the  mind  of  man.  Let  us  hope  that  the  coexistence  of 
St.  Peter's  Abbey  and  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  each  now 
so  distinct  not  only  in  origin  but  in  outward  aspect,  is 
a  pledge  that  the  dream  has  been  in  part  realised. 

It  was  by  a  hard  struggle  in  those  tempestuous  times 
that  the  Abbey  was  saved.     Its   dependency  of   the 

1  Neale,  ii.  105,  107. 

'■^  So  he  was  found  in  1783  on  making  Archbishop  Cornwallis's 
grave.     (Sir  H.  M.  Nichols's  Privy  Purse  Expenses,  H.  viii.  p.  .3.57.) 

3  Westbourne  and  Paddington  were  then  transferred  from  the  see 
of  Westminster  to  London. 

*  Collier, ii.  324  ;  Widmore,  p.  133.  So  afterwards,  'the  City  wants 
to  bury  Lord  Chatham  in  St.  Paul's,  which,  as  a  person  said  to  me, 
would  literally  be  "  robbing  Peter  to  pay  Paul."  I  wish  it  could  be 
so,  that  there  might  be  some  decoration  of  that  nudity.'  ( Walpole,  vii. 
69.  See  Chapter  IV.)  Canon  Robertson  points  out  to  me  that  a  simi- 
lar, though  not  exactly  the  same  expression  is  found  generally  applied, 
as  far  back  as  the  twelfth  century,  '  tanquam  si  quis  crucifigeret  Pau- 
lum  ut  redimeret  Petrum.'  (Herbert  of  Bosham,  287.)  Compare  also 
a  letter  of  Alexander  III.  to  Henry  II.  (Letters  of  Becket,  Giles,  iv. 
116.) 


THE   CATHEDRAL  UNDER   EDWARD   Yl.         221 

Priory  of  St.  Martin's-le-Grand  ^  was  torn  to  pieces,  and 
let  out  to  individuals.^  Its  outlying  domains  j^^  dan-^ers 
to  the  east  of  Westminster,  it  is  said,  were  sac-  of theAbbey. 
jificed  to  the  Protector  Somerset,  to  induce  him  to  for- 
bear from  pulling  down  the  Abbey  itself .-^  The  Chapter 
Book  of  these  years  is  filled  with  grants  and  entreaties 
to  the  Protector  himself,  to  his  wife,  to  his  brother,  and 
to  his  servant.  Twenty  tons  of  Caen  stone,  evidently 
from  the  dilapidated  monastery,  were  made  over  to  him, 
'  if  there  could  be  so  much  spared,'  '  in  the  hope  that 
he  would  be  good  and  gracious.'  *  According  to  one 
version,  the  inhabitants  of  Westminster  rose  in  a  body, 
and  prevented  the  demoHtion  of  their  beloved  church.^ 
According  to  another,  and  perhaps  more  authentic^ 
tradition,  the  Protector's  designs  had  not  reached 
further  than  the  destruction  of  St.  Margaret's  Church, 
and  portioning  out  the  Nave  of  the  Abbey  for  the  ejected 
congregation.  'But  no  sooner  had  the  workmen  ad- 
vanced their  scaffolds,  when  the  parishioners  gathered 
together  in  great  multitudes,  with  bows  and  arrows, 
staves  and  clubs  .  .  .  which  so  terrified  the  workmen 
that  they  ran  away  in  great  amazement,  and  never 
could  be  brought  again  upon  that  employment.' 

On   the   extinction   of   the    Bishopric,   the   Abbot's 
House  was  sold  to  Lord  Wentworth,  the  Lord  Cham- 
berlain.    He  lived  in  it  only  for  a  year,  and  Lord  went- 
was  buried  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Blaize  or  the  funeral 
Islip  Chapel,"  with  much  heraldic  pomp,  the  io'oo-i.  ' 

1  See  Chapter  Y.  p.  22.  2  Chapter  Book,  1549. 

8  Fourteen  manors  are  said  to  have  been  given  to  him.    Dart,  i.  66. 
*  Chapter  Book,  1546,  1547. 
s  Gent.  Mag.  1799,  vol.  Ixix.  pt.  i.  p.  447. 
6  Heylin's  Hist.  Ref.  72  ;  Ha\-ward's  Life  of  Edward  17.,  205. 
^  Machyn's  Diary,  March  7,  1550-1.    '  In  the  same  chapel  that  the 
old  abbot  {query  Islip  or  Benson)  was  buried.' 


222         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

children,  priests,  and  clerks  attending  in  surplices. 
Miles  Coverdale,  the  translator  of  the  Bible,  preached 
Arrange-  his  funcral  sermon.  The  Dean  had  occupied 
buildings.'^  the  buildings  where  the  Misericorde  or  Smaller 
Eefectory  had  stood,  adjoining  the  garden.^  The  Great 
Kefectory  was  pulled  down  '  by  his  servant  Guy  Gas- 
kell,'2  and  the  vacant  ground  granted  to  one  of  the 
Prebendaries  (Carleton,  also  Dean  of  Peterborough), 
who  was  allowed  to  take  the  lead  from  St.  Catherine's 
Chapel.  A  Library  was  set  up  in  the  North  Cloister. 
The  '  Smaller  Dormitory '  ^  was  cleared  away,  to  open  a 
freer  passage  to  the  Dean's  House  by  the  Dark  Entry. 
The  conventual  Granary  was  portioned  out  for  the  corn 
of  the  Dean  and  Prebendaries.*  The  Plumbery  and 
Waxchandlery  were  transferred  to  its  vaults.  The '  An- 
chorite's House '  ^  was  leased  to  a  bellringer  appointed 
by  the  little  Princess  Elizabeth. 

In  the  midst  of  these  changes  Dean  Benson,^ 

Benson,  "^ 

1539-49.  once  Abbot  Boston,  died,  it  is  said,  of  vexation 
over  the  financial  difficulties  of  his  house,'  and  was 
buried  at  the  entrance  of  St.  Blaize's  Chapel.  His 
successor,  Richard  Cox,  who  was  duly  installed  in  'the 
Cox  1549-  Chapter  House,'  had  been  one  of  the  three 
^^^^-  tutors  ^  of  Edward  VI.,  and  was  accordingly 

transferred  from  a  canonry  at  Windsor  to  the  Deanery 
of  Westminster.     Whilst  there  he  attended  the  Pro- 

'  Chapter  Book,  1545.  —It  was  long  called  the  '  Dean's  House.' 

2  Chapter  Book,  Nov.  5,  1544. 

3  A  name  of  which  the  peculiar  meaning  is  well  known  to  antiqua- 
ries. 4  Chapter  Book,  1546.  ^  gee  Chapter  V.  p.  34. 

6  His  surname  as  Abbot  had  been,  from  his  birthplace,  Boston. 

1  The  loss  from  the  fall  of  money  made  it  necessary  to  sell  plate 
and  stuff.  (Chapter  Book,  1552.)  An  inventory  of  the  Abbot's  plate 
is  in  the  Record  Office.     (Land  Revenue  Accounts,  No.  1114.) 

^  This  seems  to  have  been  a  frequent  function  of  the  Deans  of 
Westminster.     See  Doyne  Bell's  Tower  Chapel,  pp.  152,  172. 


THE  CONVENT  UNDER  QUEEN  MARY.  223 

tector  Somerset  on  the  scaffold.  After  four  years  he 
was  compelled  to  fly,  from  his  complicity  in  the  attempt 
to  place  Lady  Jane  Grey  on  the  throne.  Almost  im- 
mediately on  his  return  from  Germany,  on  the  accession 
of  Elizabeth,  he  was  appointed  to  succeed  Thirlby  at 
Ely  in  1559,1  where  he  died  m  extreme  old  age  in  1581. 
His  venerable  white  beard  renders  him  conspicuous 
among  the  portraits  of  the  Bishops  of  Ely,  in  the 
Library  of  Trinity  Hall  at  Cambridge. 

Hugh  Weston  (a  man,  it  is  said,  of  very  questionable 
character)   succeeded,   but   was    removed,    after   three 
years,  to  Windsor,  to  make  way  for  the  change  ^egt^^^ 
which  Mary  had  so  much  at  heart.     It  was  ^^^^"^®- 
gradually  effected.     The  Prebendaries,  one  by  ^f\Ve'^^^^ 
one,  conformed  to  her  faith.     Philip's  father-  '^^''^*'^- 
confessor  was  lodged  in  the  Precincts.     But  the  College 
dinners   became   somewhat    disorderly.     '  Forks  '   and 
'  knives  '  are  tossed  freely  to  and  fro,  and  '  Hugh  Price 
breaks  John  Wood's  head  with  a  pot.'  ^    The  Chapter 
Book  here  abruptly  closes,  and  a  few  blank  leaves  alone 
indicate  the  period  of  the  transition. 

In  that  interval  the  Abbey  bore  its  part  in  scenes 
which  at  the  time  must  have  seemed  to  be  fraught  with 
incalculable  consequences  for  England  and  for  ^g.^^  jj^^. 
Europe.    On  the  12th  of  November  was  cele-  ^'-• 
brated  the  mass  of  the  Holy  Ghost  at  the  altar  of  West- 

1  For  Cox's  conduct,  see  Aikin's  Elizabeth,  i.  154;  and  Strype's 
Annals,  ii.  pt.  ii.  p.  267  ;  iii.  pt.  i.  p.  37 ;  also  Froude's  Hist.  vol.  xi.  pp. 
5  6  7  To  the  period  of  his  exile  belongs  the  remarkable  poem  as- 
crib'ed  to  him,  on  'Say  well  and  do  well/  published  iu  vol  xiii.  of  the 
Percy  Society.  He  was  the  'proud  Prelate'  whom  Elizabeth  threat- 
ened to  '  unfrock.' 

2  Chapter  Book,  1554.  — Against  the  names  of  Hugh  Griffiths  and 
T.Reynolds  is  written,  in  a  later  hand,  '  ^urncoais ; '  and  against  six 
others,  '  new  Prebendaries  of  the  Romish  persuasion.' 


224         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   KEFOKMATION. 

minster  Abbey,  in  the  presence  of  King  Philip  and  Queen 
Mary,  to  inaugurate  the  Parliament  which  met  to  re- 
peal the  attainder  of  Cardinal  Pole,  and  welcome  him 
on  his  mission  of  reuniting  the  Church  of  England  to 
the  Church  of  Rome.  The  Cardinal  arrived,  and  now 
the  great  day  itself  was  come  on  which  the  reconcili- 
ation was  to  be  accomplished.  The  Feast  of 
St.  Andrew  was  chosen,^  as  being  the  festival 
of  Philip's  highest  order  —  the  Golden  Fleece.  From 
the  Holbein  gate  of  Whitehall  Palace  issued  the  Span- 
ish King,  escorted  by  six  hundred  Spanish  courtiers, 
dressed  in  their  court  costumes  of  white  velvet,^  striped 
with  red,  which  they  had  not  worn  since  their  first  en- 
trance into  England ;  and  which  were  now  reassumed 
to  mark  the  auspicious  event.  The  Knights  of  the 
Garter  joined  the  procession  with  their  badges  and  col- 
lars. In  the  presence  of  this  gorgeous  assembly  the 
High  Mass  of  the  Order  of  the  Golden  Fleece  was  sung 
in  the  Abbey.  The  service  lasted  till  two  in  the  after- 
noon. The  Queen  and  the  Cardinal  were  absent,  she 
reserving  herself,  in  expectation  of  the  anticipated 
heir  to  her  throne,  from  any  unnecessary  fatigue :  the 
Cardinal  also,  perhaps,  from  his  weak  health,  or  to  give 
greater  effect  to  his  appearance  for  the  final  and  yet 
grander  ceremony  in  Westminster  Hall.  Thither  he 
was  brought  from  Lambeth  in  state  by  the  Earl  of 
Arundel  and  six  other  knights  of  the  Garter,  whom  the 
King  despatched  for  him  as  soon  as  they  left  the  Abbey. 
There, '  in  the  fast  waning  light  of  that  November  even- 
ing,' took  place  the  solemn  reconciliation  of  the  English 
Church  and  nation  with  the  see  of  Rome  —  so  enthusiasti- 

1  Descriptio  Reductionis  AnglicE  in  the  Appendix  to  Pole's  Letters; 
Froude,  vi.  283. 

2  Machyn's  Diary,  Nov.  12,  30, 1554. 


THE   CONVENT   UNDER   QUEEN  MARY.  225 

cally  received  at  the  time,  so  totally  reversed  within  the 
next  few  years,  so  vainly  re-attempted  since.  We  leave 
to  the  general  historian  the  description  of  this  scene 
and  of  its  consequences,  and  return  to  the  Abbey  and 
its  officers.  The  last  appearance  of  Weston  as  Dean  of 
Westminster  was  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  numerous 
processions  which  marched  through  the  streets  of  Lon- 
don to  hasten  the  fulfilment  of  the  eager  wishes  of  the 
childless  Queen.  In  the  place  of  the  Chapter,  almost 
alone  of  the  monastic  bodies,  the  Convent  of  West- 
minster was  restored.  John  Howman,i  of  the  Abbot 
Forest  of  Feckenham  in  Worcestershire,  the  1555-60.^'"' 
last  mitred  Abbot  of  England,  '  a  short  man,  of  a  round 
visage,  fresh  colour,  affable,  and  pleasant,'  2  is  one  of  the 
few  characters  of  that  age  who,  without  any  powerful 
abilities,  commands  a  general  respect  from  his  singular 
moderation  and  forbearance.  Some  hasty  words  against 
Ridley,  and  a  quarrel  with  a  young  man  at  the  Bishop 
of  Winchester's  table  about  fasting,^  are  the  only  indi- 
cations that  his  life  furnishes  of  the  harsh  temper  of 
those  times. 

His  early  years  had  been  spent  in  Evesham  Abbey, 
and  then,  after  disputes  with  Cranmer  and  Hooper  which 
lodged  him  in  the  Tower,  he  was  raised  by  Mary  first 
to  the  Deanery  of  St.  Paul's,  and  then  to  the  restored 
Abbacy  of  Westminster.  We  can  best  imagine  1555. 
the  scene  when  the  new  Abbot,  with  his  thir-  ^'°''-  ^^• 
teen  monks  (four  from  Glastonbury),  reoccupied  the 
deserted  buildings,  by  reading  the  description  of  the 

1  He  is  the  last  instance  of  an  Englishman  taking  his  name  from 
his  birthplace.     (Fuller's  Worthies.) 

2  Harpsfield.  (Seymour's  Stow,  ii.  611.)  He  was  to  he  re-elected 
every  three  years,  without  a  conge  d'elire.  (Widmore,  136.)  Hook's 
Life  of  Pole,  403. 

3  Strype's  ^/!wa/s,  i.  Ill  ;  ii.  179. 

VOL.  II.  —  15 


226         THE   ABBEY  SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

like  event  ^  in  the  ruins  of  Melrose,  depicted  by  tlie  won- 
derful genius  which  was  able  at  once  to  recall  the  past, 
and  to  hold  the  balance  between  the  conflicting  parties 
of  that  time.  It  was  in  November,  on  St.  Clement's 
eve,  that  '  the  Lord  Abbot  with  the  convent,  thirteen 
monks  "  shorn  in,"  went  in  procession  after  the  old 
fashion  in  their  monks'  weeds,  in  cowls  of  black  serge, 
with  two  vergers  carrying  two  silver  rods  in  their  hands, 
and  at  evening  time  the  vergers  went  through  the  clois- 
ters to  the  Abbot,  and  so  went  into  the  church  afore 
the  altar,  and  then  my  Lord  kneeled  down,  and  his 
convent,  and,  after  his  prayer  made,  was  brought  into 
the  quire  with  the  vergers,  and  so  into  his  place.'  In 
the  following  week  '  my  Lord  Abbot  was  consecrated 
in  the  Abbey,  and  there  was  great  company,  and  he 
was  made  abbot,  and  did  wear  a  mitre,  and  my  Lord 
Cardinal  (Pole)  was  there,  and  many  Bishops,  and  my 
Lord  Chancellor  (Gardiner)  did  sing  mass,  and  the 
Abbot  made  the  sermon,  and  my  Lord  Treasurer  was 
there.'     A  few  days  afterwards,  on  December 

•nop   «  '' 

6  (the  Feast  of  St.  Nicholas  2),  the  Abbot 
marched  in  procession  '  with  his  convent.  Before  him 
went  all  the  monastery  men  with  cross  keys  upon  their 
garments,  and  after  went  three  homicides,'  as  if  ostenta- 
tiously paraded  for  the  sake  of  showing  that  the  rights 
of  sanctuary  were  in  full  force.^  The  young  noble- 
man, Lord  Dacre,  walked  with  a  sheet  about  him,  and 
was  whipped  as  he  went.  With  him  was  the  lowborn 
murderer  of  the  tailor  in  Long  Acre,  and  the  small 
Westminster  scholar,  who  had  slain  a  '  big  boy '  that 

1  The  scene  of  the  election  of  the  last  mitred  Abbot  of  Scotland, 
in  Scott's  Abbot,  ch.  xiii.,  xiv.,  xv. 

2  Machyn's  Diary,  Nov.  22,  29  ;  Dec.  6,  1555. 
8  See  Chai^ter  V.  p.  38. 


THE   CONVENT   UNDER   QUEEN   MARY.  227 

sold  papers  and  printed  books  in  Westminster  Hall,  by 
hurling  a  stone  which  hit  him  under  the  ear  —  earliest 
hero  of  the  long-sustained  conflicts  between  the  West- 
minster scholars   and   the   '  skys '  of   London,  as  the 
outside  world  was  called.     The  ruins  of  the  Confessor's 
Shrine  were  repaired,  so  far  as  the  taste  of  the  age  would 
allow.     On  the  5th  of  January,  1557,  the  an-  ^.^^^^ 
niversary  of  the  Confessor's  death,  '  the  Shrine  •^^"-  ^• 
was  again  set  up,  and  the  Altar  with  divers  jewels  that 
the  Queen  sent  hither.'     '  The  body  of  the  most  holy 
King  Edward,  though  the  heretics  had  power  on  that 
wherein  the  body  was  enclosed,  yet  on  that  sacred  body 
had  they  no  power,'  he  found  and  restored  to  its  '  an- 
cient sepulture.'  ^     On   the   20th   of   March, 
with  a  hundred  lights,  King  Edward  the  Con- 
fessor 'was  reverently  carried  from  the  place  that  he 
was  taken  up  where  he  was  laid  when  the  Abbey  was 
spoiled  and  robbed,  and  so  he  was  carried,  and  goodly 
singing  and  censing  as  has  been  seen,  and  mass  sung.'  ^ 
By  the  21st  of  April  the  Shrine  was  '  set  up  ' 
and  was  visited  '  after  dinner  '  by  the  Duke  of 
Muscovy,^  who  went  up  to  see  it  and  saw  the  place 
through.     The  marks  of  this  hasty  restoration 
are  still  visible  in  the  displaced  fragments, 
and  plaster  mosaic,  and  novel  cornice.*     A  wooden  can- 
opy was  placed  over  it,  perhaps  intended  as  a  temporary 

1  I  owe  the  sight  of  this  speech  of  Feckenham  to  the  kindness  of 
Mr.  Froude. 

2  Chronicle  of  Grey  Friars,  94 ;  Machyn's  Diary,  March  21,  15.57. 

3  Machyn's  Diary,  April  21,  1557.     Malcolm,  p.  237. 

*  The  lower  part  of  the  shrine,  including  the  arches,  seems  to  have 
been  left  undisturbed.  All  the  upper  part  was  broken,  probably  for 
the  removal  of  the  coffin.  A  fragment  of  the  original  cornice  was 
found  in  1868  built  into  the  wall  of  the  School,  and  has  been  restored 
to  its  place. 


228   THE  ABBEY  BEFORE  THE  REFORMATION. 

structure,  to  supply  the  place  of  its  splendid  tabernacle, 
but  which  has  remained  unaltered  and  unfinished  to 
this  day  —  a  memorial  the  more  interesting  from  the 
transient  state  of  the  Church  which  it  represents. 
Above,  and  instead  of  the  old  inscription,  was  written 
a  new  one  round  the  Shrine,  and  like  inscriptions  were 
added  to  each  of  the  Eoyal  Tombs.^  The  ancient 
Charters  were,  it  was  believed,  preserved  as  if  by  a 
miracle,  being  found,  by  a  servant  of  Cardinal  Pole,  in 
the  hands  of  a  child  playing  in  the  streets.  And  by 
appealing  to  these,  as  well  as  to  Lucius's  foundation 
and  St.  Peter's  visit,  the  relics  of  the  saints,  the  graves 
of  kings,  and  '  the  commodity  of  our  ancestors,'  the 
Abbot  pleaded  earnestly  before  the  House  of  Commons 
for  the  Westminster  right  of  sanctuary .^  For  the  whole 
of  that  year  the  enthusiasm  continued.  On  Passion 
Sunday  my  Lord  Abbot  did  preach  as  goodly  a  sermon 
as  has  been  heard  in  our  time.'  '  On  Ascension  Day 
the  King  and  Queen  went  in  procession  about  the  Clois- 
Nov  30  ^^^>  ^^^  heard  mass.'  On  St  Andrew's  Day, 
^■^^^  the  anniversary  of  the  Reconciliation,  a  proces- 

sion went  about  the  Abbey.  Philip,  Mary,  and  Cardinal 
Pole  were  all  present,  and  the  Abbot  '  sang  the  mass.' 
On  the  next  Easter  Eve  the  '  Paschal  candle  was  in- 
stalled upon  the  High  Altar  with  a  great  entertainment 
of  the  master  and  wardens  of  the  wax-chandlers.'  One 
curious  incident  reveals  the  deeply-seated  infirmity  of 
monastic  and  collegiate  establishments  even  in 
the  glow  of  a  religious  revival.  It  was  in  the 
August  of  that  year  that  the  funeral  of  Anne  of  Cleves 

1  See  Chapter  III.  It  may  be  observed  that  the  inscription  on 
Edward  III.'s  tomb  — '  Tertius  Edvardus,  fania  super  sethera  notus, 
Pugna  pro  Patria '  is  the  same  as  that  written,  probably  at  the  same 
date,  under  the  statue  of  Edward  III.  on  tlie  inner  gateway  of  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge.  ^  Speech  from  the  Rolls'  House. 


bUlUNE   UF    EUWAKU   THE   CONFESSOR. 


THE   CHAPTER   UNDER   QUEEN   ELIZABETH.      229 

took  place.      The  next  day  was  the  requiem.      Bon- 
ner sans  mass  in  his  mitre,  and  Feckenham 

"  .  August  4. 

preached,  and  both  in  their  mitres  incensed 

the  corpse,  and  afterwards  she  was  carried  to  her  tomb, 

'  where  she  lies  with  a  hearse-cloth  of  gold. 

r  August  21. 

But  within  three  weeks  the  monks  had  by- 
night  spoiled  the  hearse  of  all  its  velvet  cloth  and  trap- 
pings, the  which  was  never  ^  seen  afore  or  so  done.' 

It  was  a  brief  respite.  Feckenham  had  hardly  been 
estabhshed  in  the  Abbot's  House  for  more  than  a  year, 
when  the  death  of  Mary  dispersed  the  hopes  of  the 
Eoman  Church  in  England.  It  depended  on  the  will 
of  the  sovereign  of  the  time,  and  with  her  fall  it  fell. 
Feckenham  2  had  preached  as  Dean  of  St.  Paul's  at 
Paul's  Cross  before  her  coronation,  and  now  at  her 
death  he  delivered  two  sermons,  which  were  remark- 
able for  their  moderation,  on  the  text,  'I  praised  the 
dead  more  than  the  living'  (Eccl.  iv.  2).^  It  March  si, 
was  in  the  closing  period  of  his  rule  in  West-  TheVest- 

"    '-  n  c    minster 

minster  that  the  Abbey  witnessed  the  hrst  of  conference. 
those  theological  conflicts  which  have  since  so  often  re- 
sounded in  its  precincts.     Then  took  place  the  pitched 
battle  between  the  divines  of  the  old  religion  and  of 
the  new.* 

On  the  31st  of  Jklarch,  1559,  there  was  held  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey  a  theological  tournament.     Eight  champions  on 

1  Machyn's  Diary,  Aug.  2,3.  21,  15.57.  See  Chapter  III.  The 
tomb  was  not  finished  till  the  time  of  James  I.,  and  has  suffered  since 
from  successive  changes.  Even  as  late  as  1820  it  lost  its  marble  cov- 
eriu"-  which  was  removed  to  the  communion  table,  where  it  has  smce 
remained.  2  ibid.  Sept.  21,  1552. 

3  Fuller's  Church  Hist  or, ij,  a.  d.  1558.  The  sermon  at  her  funeral 
had  been  preached  by  Bishop  White,     (Machyn,  Dec.  13,  1558.) 

4  Strype's  Annals,  i.  116,  128,  196;  ii.  465  (No.  15) ;  FuUers  Church 
History,  ii.  447  ;   Worthies,  ii.  357. 


230         THE   ABBEY   SINCE  THE   REFORMATION. 

either  side  were  chosen  for  the  engagement.  Sir  Nicholas 
Bacon  and  the  Archbishop  of  York  kept  the  lists  :  the  Lords 
and  Commons  were  the  audience  —  for  whose  better  instruc- 
tion the  combat  was  to  be  conducted  in  English. 

This  was  the  last  fight  face  to  face  between  the 
Church  of  Rome  and  the  Church  of  England.  It  was 
the  direct  preparation  for  the  Liturgy  as  it  now  stands, 
as  enjoined  in  Elizabeths  first  Act  of  Uniformity. 
Against  that  Liturgy  and  against  the  Royal  Supremacy 
the  chief  protest  was  uttered  by  Feckenham  from  his 
place  in  the  House  of  Lords  —  on  '  the  lowest  place  on 
the  Bishops'  form '  —  where  he  sate  as  the  only  Abbot.^ 
The  battle  was  however  lost,  and  it  only  remains,  as 
far  as  Westminster  is  concerned,  to  tell,  in  Fuller's 
words,  the  closing  scene  of  the  good  Abbot's  sojourn 
in  our  precincts:  —  'Queen  Elizabeth  coming  to  the 
Fecken-  Crowu,  scut  for  Abbot  Feckenham  to  come 
weutothe"  to  her,  whom  the  messenger  found  setting  of 
Garden.  elms  in  the  orchard  [the  College  Garden]  of 
Westminster  Abbey.  But  he  would  not  follow  the 
messenger  till  first  he  had  finished  his  plantation, 
which  his  friends  impute  to  his  being  employed  in 
mystical  meditations  —  that  as  the  trees  he  then  set 
should  spring  and  sprout  many  years  after  his  death, 
so  his  new  plantation  of  Benedictine  monks  in  West- 
minster should  take  root  and  flourish,  in  defiance  of  all 
opposition.  .  .  .  Sure  I  am  those  monks  long  since  are 
extirpated,  but  how  his  trees  thrive  at  this  day  is  to 
me  unknown.  Coming  afterwards  to  the  Queen,  what 
discourse  passed  between  them  they  themselves  know 
alone.  Some  have  confidently  guessed  she  proffered 
him    the    Archbishopric   of   Canterbury   on    condition 

1  Strype's  Annals,  ii.  438,  app.  ix. ;  Cardwell's  Conference,  p.  98. 


THE   CHAPTER  UNDER   QUEEN  ELIZABETH.     231 

he   would    conform    to    her    laws,   which   he    utterly 
refused.'  ^ 

He  was  treated  with  more  or  less  mdulgence,  accord- 
ing to  the  temper  of  the  times  —  sometimes  a  prisoner 
in  the  Tower  ;2   sometunes  a  guest  in  the  custody  of 
Home,  Bishop  of  Winchester ;  afterwards  in  the  same 
capacity  in  the  palace  of  Coxe,  his  former  predecessor 
at  Westminster,  and  now  the  old  Bishop  of  Ely ;  and 
finally  in  the  castle  of  Wisbeach.^     There  he  His  death, 
left  a  memorial  of  himself  in  a  stone  cross,  it  wis-"'*" 
and  in  the  more  enduring  form  of  good  deeds 
amongst  the  i30or.     His  last  expressions  breathe  the 
same  spirit  of  moderation  which  had  marked  his  hfe,* 
and,  contrasted  with  the  violence  of  most  of  his  co- 
religionists at  that  time,  remind  us  of  the  forbearance 
and  good  sense  of  Ken  amongst  the  Nonjurors. 

The  change  in  Westminster  Abbey  was  now  com- 
plete. A  Protestant  sermon  was  preached  to  a  '  great 
audience.' 5  The  stone  altars  were  every-  '^|;«j;!^^;;se^ 
where  destroyed.^  The  massy  oaken  table  Elizabeth, 
which  now  stands  in  the  Confessor's  Chapel  was  sub- 
stituted, probably  at  that  time,  for  the  High  Altar,^ 
and  was  placed,  as  it  would  seem,  at  the  foot  of  the 
steps.8  St.  Catherine's  Chapel  was  finally  demohshed, 
and  its  materials  used  for  the  new  buildings.^ 

1  Fuller's  Church  Hist.  ix.  6,  8.  .38.  — The  elms,  or  their  successors, 
still  remain.  There  was  till  1779  a  row  of  trees  in  the  middle  of  the 
garden,  which  was  then  cut  down.     (Chapter  Book,  March  17,  1779.) 

^  He  was  deprived  Jan.  4,  1559-60,  and  sent  to  the  Tower  May  22, 
1560.     (Machyn's  Diari/.) 

3  Seymour's  Stow,  p.  611.  —  The  monks  had  annuities  granted  them. 
(Chapter  Book,  1569.) 

i  Strype's  Annals,  ii.  528,  No.  xxxi. ;  pt.  ii.  pp.  177,  381,  678. 

5  Machyn,  November,  1561. 

6  Strvpe's  Annals,  i.  401.     See  Chapter  III.         "  Malcolm,  p.  87. 
8  Wi"ffin's  House  of  Russell,  ii.  514.  ^  Chapter  Book,  1571. 


232         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   EEFORMAIION. 

The  interest  of  Queen  Elizabeth  in  the  institution 
never  flagged.  Even  from  her  childhood  she  had  taken 
part  m  its  affairs.  A  certain  John  Pennicott  had  been 
appointed  to  the  place  of  bellringer  at  the  request  of 
the  *  Lady  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  our  Sovereign  Lord 
the  King,'  ^  when  she  was  only  thirteen.  Almost 
always  before  the  opening  of  Parliament  she  came  to 
the  Abbey  on  horseback,  the  rest  of  her  train  on  foot. 
She  entered  at  the  Northern  door,  and  through  the 
west  end  of  the  Choir,  receiving  the  sceptre  from  the 
Dean,  which  she  returned  to  him  as  she  went  out  by 
the  Southern  Transept.  Carpets  and  cushions  were 
placed  for  her  by  the  Altar.^  The  day  of  her  accession 
(November  17),  and  of  her  coronation  (January  15), 
were  long  observed  as  anniversaries  in  the  Abbey.  On 
the  first  of  these  days  the  bells  are  still  rung,  and,  till 
within  the  last  few  years,  a  dinner  of  persons  connected 
with  Westminster  School  took  place  in  the  College 
Hall.^  Under  her  auspices  the  restored  Abbey  and 
the  new  Cathedral  *  both  vanished  away.     One  of  the 


1  Chapter  Book,  November  5,  1544. 

•^  Ibid.,  1562,  1571,  1572,  1584,  and  1597;  Malcolm,  p.  261  ;  Strype's 
Annals,  i.  438 ;  State  Papers,  1588.  Her  father  had  come  in  like  man- 
ner in  1534. 

3  See  Monk's  Bentley,  p.  535.  The  two  last  centenaries  of  the 
foundation  were  celebrated  with  much  pomp  in  1760,  and  again 
in  1860.  Chapter  Book,  June  3,  1760.  —  On  this  occasion  the  wax 
effigy  of  Elizabeth,  now  amongst  the  waxworks  of  the  Abbey, 
was  made  by  the  'gentlemen  of  the  Choir.'  (Chapter  Book,  June 
3,  1760.) 

*  The  name  '  cathedral '  lingered  in  the  Abbey  for  some  time.  It 
is  called  so  at  Elizabeth's  coronation  and  funeral,  and  by  Shakspeare 
(see  Chapter  II.).  An  injunction  of  Elizabeth  orders  women  and 
children  to  be  excluded  'from  the  Cathedral  Church.'  (State 
Papers,  1562;  see  ibid.  1689.)  It  appears  as  late  as  in  the  dedi- 
cation of  South's  Sermon  to  Dolben ;  and  even  on  Lord  Mansfield's 
monument. 


THE   CHAPTER   UNDER   QUEEN  ELIZABETH.    233 

first  acts  of  her  reign  ^  was  to  erect  a  new  institu- 
tion in  place  of  her  father's  cathedral  and  her  sister's 
convent. 

'  By  the  inspiration  of  the  Divine  clemency '  [so  she  de- 
scribes her  motive  and  her  object],  '  on  considering  and  re- 
volving in  our  mind  from  what  various  dangers  of  our  Hfe 
and  many  kinds  of  death  with  which  we  have  been  on  every 
side  encompassed,  the  great  and  good  God  with  His  powerful 
arm  hath  dehvered  us  His  handmaid,  destitute  of  all  human 
assistance,  and    protected  under  the  shadow  of   His  wings, 
hath  at  length  advanced  us  to  the  height  of  our  royal  majesty, 
and  by  His  sole  goodness  placed  us  in  the  throne  of  this  our 
kingdom,  we  think  it  our  duty  in  the  first  place  ....  to 
the  intent  that  true  religion  and  the  true  worship  of  Him, 
without  which  we  are  either  like  to  brutes  in  cruelty  or  to 
beasts  in  folly,  may  in  the  aforesaid  monastery,  where  for 
many  years  since  they  had  been  banished,  be  restored  and 
reformed,  and  brought  back  to  the  primitive  form  of  genuine 
and  brotherly  sincerity ;  correcting,  and  as  much  as  we  can, 
entirely  forgetting,  the  enormities  in  which  the  life  and  pro- 
fession of  the  monks  had  for  a  long  time  in  a  deplorable 
manner  erred.     And  therefore  we  have  used  our  endeavours, 
as  far  as  human  infirmity  can  foresee,  that  hereafter  the  doc- 
uments of  the  sacred  oracles  out  of  which  as  out  of  the 
clearest  fountains  the  purest  waters  of  Divine  truth  may  and 
ought  to  be  drawn,  and  the  pure  sacraments  of  our  salutary 
redemption  be  there  administered,  that  the  youth,  who  in 
the  stock  of  our  republic,  like  certain  tender  twigs,  daily 
increase,  may  be  liberally  trained  up  in  useful  letters,  to  the 
greater  ornament  of  the  same  republic,  that  the  aged  destitute 
of  strength,  those  especially  who  shall  have  well  and  gravely 
served  about  our  person,  or  otherwise  about  the  pubhc  busi- 

1  Her  portrait  in  the  Deanerv,  traditionally  said  to  have  heen  given 
by  her  to  Dean  Goodman,  was  really  (as  appears  from  an  inscription 
at  the  back)  given  to  the  Deanery  by  Dean  Wilcocks. 


234         THE  ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

uess  of  our  kingdom,  may  be  suitably  nourished  in  things 
necessary  for  sustenance ;  lastly,  that  offices  of  charity  to 
the  poor  of  Christ,'  and  general  words  of  public  utility,  be 
continued. 

She  then  specially  names  the  monumental  character 
^,^g  of  the  church,  and  especially  the  tomb  of  her 

chu??lro*f  grandfather,  '  the  most  powerful  and  prudent 
St.  Peter.  ^£  ^^i^  kiugs  of  the  age,'  as  furnishing  a  fit  site, 
and  proceeds  to  establish  the  Dean  and  twelve  Preben- 
daries, under  the  name  of  the  College,  or  Collegiate 
Church  of  St.  Peter,  Westminster. 

Henceforth  the  institution  became,  strictly  speaking, 
a  great  academical  as  well  as  an  ecclesiastical  body. 
The  old  Dormitory  of  the  monks  had  already  been  di- 
vided into  two  compartments.  These  two  compart- 
ments were  now  to  be  repaired  and  furnished  for 
collegiate  purposes,  '  upon  contribution  of  such  godly- 
disposed  persons  as  have  and  will  contribute  thereunto. 
The  Chapter  Tlic  suiallcr  or  northcru  portion  was  devoted 
1374.  *  to  the  '  Library.'  The  Dean,  Goodman,  soon 
began  to  form  a  Library,  and  had  given  towards  it  a 
' Complutensian  Bible,'  and  a  'Hebrew  Vocabulary.'^ 
This  Library  was  apparently  intended  to  have  been  in 
1517  some  other  part  of  the  conventual  buildings, 
■^^^^'  and  it  is  not  till  some  years  later  that  it  was 
ordered  to  be  transferred  to  '  the  great  room  before  the 
old  Dorter.'  ^  Its  present  aspect  is  described  in  a  well- 
known  passage  of  Washington  Irving :  — 

I  found  myself  in  a  lofty  antique  hall,  the  roof  supported 
by  massive  joists  of  old  English  oak.     It  was  soberly  lighted 

1  Chapter  Book,  1571. 

-  The  successive  stages  of  the  formation  of  the  Library  appear  iu 
the  Chapter  Book,  Dec.  2,  1574,  May  26,  1587,  Dec.  3,  1591. 


THE   CHAPTER   UNDER   QUEEN  ELIZABETH.     235 

by  a  row  of  Gothic  windows  at  a  considerable  height  from 
the  floor,  and  which  apparently  opened  upon  the  roofs  of 
the  Cloisters.  An  ancient  picture,  of  some  reverend  digni- 
tary of  the  Church  in  his  robes,^  hung  over  the  fireplace. 
Around  the  hall  and  in  a  small  gallery  were  the  books,  arranged 
in  carved  oaken  cases.  They  consisted  principally  of  old 
polemical  writers,  and  were  much  more  worn  by  time  than 
use.  In  the  centre  of  the  Library  was  a  solitary  table,  with 
two  or  three  books  on  it,  an  inkstand  without  ink,  and  a 
few  pens  parched  by  long  disuse.  The  place  seemed  fitted 
for  quiet  study  and  meditation.  It  was  buried  deep  among 
the  massive  walls  of  the  Abbey,  and  shut  up  from  the  tumult 
of  tlie  world.  I  could  only  hear  now  and  then  the  shouts 
of  the  schoolboys  faintly  swelling  from  the  Cloisters,  and  the 
sound  of  a  bell  tolling  for  prayers,  that  echoed  soberly  along 
the  roofs  of  the  Abbey.  By  degrees  the  shouts  of  merriment 
grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  at  length  died  away.  The  bell 
ceased  to  toll,  and  a  profound  silence  reigned  through  the 
dusky  hall.^ 

It  was,  however,  long  before  this  chamber  was  fully 
appropriated  to  its  present  purpose.     The  century  had 
well  nigh  run  out  its  sands,  and  EHzabeth's       jjg^ 
reign  was  all  but  closed,  when  the  order,  issued       ^^^^• 
in  the  year  before  the  Armada,  was  carried  out,  and  then 
only  as  regards  the  southern  and   larger  part  of   the 
original  Dormitory,  which  had  been  devoted  Theschooi- 
to  the  Schoolroom.'^     Down  to  that  time  the  ^'^°°^' 
Schoolroom,  like  the  Library,  had  been  in  some  other 

1  Dean  Williams.     (See  p.  417.) 

2  Irving's  Sketch  Book,  i.  227-229.  See  Botfield's  Cathedral  Libra- 
ries of  England  (pp.  430-464),  ■which  gives  a  general  account  of  the 
contents  of  the  Westminster  Library. 

^  I  have  forborne  here,  as  elsewhere,  to  go  at  length  into  the  history 
of  the  School.  It  opens  a  new  field,  which  one  not  bred  at  Westmin- 
ster  has  hardly  any  right  to  enter,  and  which  has  been  elaborately 


236        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFOKMATION. 

chamber  of  the  monastery.  But  this  chamber,  wher- 
ever it  was,  became  more  evidently  unfit  for  its  purpose 
— '  too  low  and  too  little  for  receiving  the  number  of 
1599.  scholars.'  ^  Accordingly,  whilst  the  Library 
was  left  to  wait,  the  Schoolroom  was  pressed  forward 
with  '  all  convenient  speed.'  New  '  charitable  contri- 
butions '  were  '  gathered ; '  and  probably  by  the  begin- 
ning of  the  seventeenth  century  it  was  prepared  for 
the  uses  to  which  it  has  ever  since  been  destined. 
Although  in  great  part  rebuilt  in  this  century,  it  still 
occupies  the  same  space.  Its  walls  are  covered  with 
famous  names,  which  in  long  hereditary  descent  rival, 
probably,  any  place  of  education  in  England.  Its  roof 
is  of  the  thirteenth  century,  one  of  its  windows  of  the 
eleventh.  From  its  conchlike  ^  termination  has  sprung 
in  several  of  the  public  schools  the  name  of  '  shell,'  for 
the  special  class  that  occupies  the  analogous  position. 
The  monastic  Granary,  which  under  Dean  Benson  had 
still  been  retained  for  the  corn  of  the  Chapter,  now 
The  old  became,  and  continued  to  be  for  nearly  two 
Domitorj'.  hundred  years,  the  Scholars'  Dormitory.  The 
Hall.  °  Abbot's  Eefectory  became  the  Hall  of  the 
whole  establishment.^  The  Dean  and  Prebendaries 
continued  to  dine  there,  at  least  on  certain  days,  till 

illustrated  by  Westminster  scholars  themselves  in  the  Census  Alumno- 
rum  Westmonasteriensium,  and  Lusus  Alteri  Westmonaster lenses.  For  a 
brief  and  lively  account  of  its  main  features  I  may  refer  to  two  arti- 
cles on  'Westminster  School'  (by  an  old  schoolfellow  of  mj- own), 
in  Blackwood's  Mafjazine  for  July  and  September  1866,  and  since  re- 
published with  other  essays  under  the  name  of  Tlie  Public  Schools  of 
England. 

1  Chapter  Book,  May  7,  1599.  This  and  the  previous  order  are 
given  at  length  in  Lusus  Westmonast.  ii.  332. 

2  This  arose  from  the  accidental  repair  of  the  building  after  a  fire. 
The  apse  was  removed  in  1868,  but  the  trace  of  it  still  remains  on  the 
floor.  3  gee  Chapter  IV. 


THE  CHAPTER  UNDEE  QUEEN  ELIZABETH.     237 

the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century ;  i  and  then,  as 
they  gradually  withdrew  from  it  to  their  own  houses, 
it  was  left  to  the  Scholars.  Once  a  year  the  ancient 
custom  is  revived,  when  on  Rogation  IVIonday  the  Dean 
and  Chapter  receive  in  the  Hall  the  former  Westminster 
Scholars,  and  hear  the  recitation  of  the  Epigrams,  which 
have  contributed  for  so  many  years  their  lively  com- 
ments on  the  events  of  each  passing  generation.^  The 
great  tables,  once  believed  to  be  of  chestnut-wood,  but 
now  known  to  be  elm,  were,  according  to  a  doubtful 
tradition,  presented  by  Elizabeth  from  the  wrecks  of 
the  Spanish  Armada.  The  round  holes  in  their  solid 
planks  are  ascribed  to  the  cannon-balls  of  the  English 
ships.  They  may,  however,  be  the  traces  of  a  less  illus- 
trious warfare.  Till  the  time  of  Dean  Buckland,  who 
substituted  a  modern  stove,  the  Hall  was  warmed 
by  a  huge  brazier,  of  which  the  smoke  escaped  through 
the  open  roof.  The  surface  of  the  tables  is  unquestion- 
ably indented  with  the  burning  coals  thence  tossed  to 
and  fro  by  the  scholars  ;  and  the  hands  of  the  late  ven- 
erable Primate  (Archbishop  Longley)  bore  to  the  end 
of  his  life  the  scorching  traces  of  the  bars  on  which 
he  fell  as  a  boy  in  leaping  over  the  blazing  fire. 

The  collegiate  character  of  the  institution  was  still 
further  kept  up,  by  the  close  connection  which  Elizabeth 
fostered  between  the  College  of  Westminster  t. 

°  Its  connec- 

and  the  two  great  collegiate  houses  of  Christ  chrJt'*'' 
Church  and  Trinity,  founded  or  refounded  by  Oxford,' and 
her  father,  at  Oxford   and   Cambridge.      To-  cS' 
gether  they  formed  '  the  three  Royal  Colleges,'  c^'°^''"'^g«- 
as  if  to  keep  alive  Lord  Burleigh's  scheme  of  mak- 

1  Strype's  Annals,  vol.  i.  part  ii.  (No.  10). 

2  The  present  custom  in  its  present  form  dates  from  1857.  See 
Lusus  West.  il.  262. 


238         THE   ABBEY   SIXCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

ing  Westminster  '  the  third  University  of  England.' 
The  heads  of  the  three  were  together  to  preside  over 
the  examinations  of  the  School.  Tlie  oath  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Chapter  of  Westminster  was  ahnost  inden- 
tical  with  that  of  the  Masters  and  Fellows  of  Trinity  ^ 
and  Queen's  Colleges,  Cambridge;  couched  in  the  mag- 
nificent phraseology  of  that  first  age  of  the  Eeformation, 
that  they  '  would  always  prefer  truth  to  custom,  the 
Bible  to  tradition '  —  ('  vera  consuetis,  scripta  non  scriptis, 
semp)cr  antchabiturum ')  —  'that  they  would  embrace 
with  their  whole  soul  the  true  religion  of  Christ.'  The 
constitution  of  the  body  was  that  not  so  much  of  a 
Cathedral  as  of  a  College.  The  Dean  was  in  the  posi- 
tion of  '  the  Head ; '  the  JMasters  in  the  position  of  the 
Its  collegiate  Collcgc  Tutors  or  Lccturcrs.  In  the  College 
constitution,  j^^^^  ^j^^  p^^^^  ^^^^  ^j^^  Prebcndarics  dined,  as 

the  Master  and  Fellows,  or  as  the  Dean  and  Chapter 
at  Christ  Church,  at  the  High  Table  ;  and  below  sate 
all  the  other  members  of  the  body.  If  tlie  Prebendaries 
were  absent,  then,  and  seemingly  not  otherwise,  it  was 
the  duty  of  the  Headmaster  to  be  present.^  The  Gar- 
den of  the  Infirmary,  which  henceforth  became  '  the 
College  Garden,'  was,  like  the  spots  so  called  at  Oxford 
and  Cambridge,  the  exclusive  possession  of  the  Chap- 
ter, as  there  of  the  Heads  and  Fellows  of  the  Colleges.^ 
So  largely  was  the  ecclesiastical  element  blended  with 
the  scholastic,  that  the  Dean,  from  time  to  time,  seemed 
almost  to  supersede  the  functions  of  the  Headmaster. 
In  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth  he  even  took  boarders 

^  It  is  also  found  in  King  Edward's  statutes  for  the  University  of 
Cambridge,  as  part  of  the  oath  to  be  required  of  Graduates  in  Divinity 
and  Masters  of  Arts.  From  tlie  oath  in  the  Elizabeth  Statutes  of  St. 
John's,  in  other  respects  identical,  this  clause  is  curiously  omitted. 

2  Chapter  Book,  1563.  »  Ibid.  1564  and  1606. 


'^^^*ft '  "-^^'-^ 


THE    CHAPTER   UXDER   QUEEN  ELIZABETH.     239 

into  his  house.  In  the  time  of  James  I,,  as  we  shall 
see,  he  became  the  instructor  of  the  boys.  '  I  have 
placed  Lord  Barry,'  says  Cecil,  '  at  the  Dean's  at  West- 
minster. I  have  provided  bedding  and  all  of  my  own, 
with  some  other  things,  meaning  that  for  his  diet  and 
residence  it  shall  cost  him  nothing.' 

As  years  have  rolled  on,  the  union,  once  so  close, 
between  the  different  parts  of  the  Collegiate  body,  has 
gradually  been  disentangled  ;  and  at  times  the  interests 
of  the  School  may  have  been  overshadowed  by  those  of 
the  Chapter.  Yet  it  may  be  truly  said  that  the  impulse 
of  that  first  impact  has  never  entirely  ceased.  The  Head- 
masters of  Westminster  have  again  and  again  been 
potentates  of  the  first  magnitude  in  the  collegiate  circle. 
They  were  appointed  ^  to  preach  sermons  for  the  Preben- 
daries. They  not  seldom  were  Prebendaries  themselves. 
The  names  of  Camden  and  of  Busby  were,  till  our  own 
times,  the  chief  glories  of  the  great  profession  they 
adorned ;  and  of  all  the  Schools  which  the  Princes 
of  the  Reformation  planted  -in  the  heart  of  the  Cathe- 
drals of  England,  Westminster  is  the  only  one  which 
adequately  rose  to  the  expectation  of  the  Royal 
Founders. 

As  in  the  Monastery,  so  in  the  Collegiate  Church,  the 
fortunes  of  the  institution  must  be  traced  through  the 
history,  partly  of  its  chiefs,  partly  of  its  build-  ^^^^  ^^^^^^ 
ings.  William  Bill,  the  first  Elizabethan  Dean,  ^.i,ii^^„,  ^ju^ 
lived  only  long  enough  to  complete  the  Col-  budedjuiy 
legiate  Statutes,  which,  however,  were  never  aiapeiofst. 
confirmed  by  the  Sovereign.  He  was  buried,^  BMedict 
among  his  predecessors  the  Abbots,  in  the  Chapel  of 
St.  Benedict.     There  also,  after  forty  years,  was  laid 

1  Chapter  Book,  Nov.  14,  1564. 

2  Machyn's  Diary,  July  22,  1561. 


240        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

Lis  successor,  Gabriel  Goodman,^  the  Welshman,  of 
Gabriel  wlioni  Fuller  says,  '  Goodman  was  his  name, 
?r°.'^'^?™'      and  goodness  was  his  nature.'   He  was  the  real 

1561-1001 ;  o 

of  s?^^"^^*^^  founder  of  the  present  establishment  —  the 
Benedict.  'Edwin '  of  a  second  Conquest.  Under  him  took 
place  the  allocation  of  the  monastic  buildings  before 
described.  Under  him  was  rehabilitated  the  Protestant 
worship,  after  the  interregnum  of  Queen  Mary's  Bene- 
dictines. The  old  copes  were  used  up  for  canopies. 
The  hangings  were  given  to  the  College.^  A  waste 
place  found  at  the  west  end  of  the  Abbey  was  to  be 
turned  into  a  garden.^  A  keeper  was  appointed  for 
the  monuments.*  The  order  of  the  Services  was,  with 
some  slight  variations,  the  same  that  it  has  been  ever 
since.  The  early  prayers  were  at  6  a.  m.  in  Henry  VII.'s 
Chapel,  with  a  lecture  on  Wednesdays  and  Fridays. 
The  musical  service  was,  on  week  days,  at  9  a.  m.  to 
11  A.  M.  and  at  4  P.  M.,  and  on  Sundays  at  8  a.  m.  to 
11  AM.  and  from  4  p.  m.  to  5  p.  m.  The  Communion 
was  administered  on  the  Festivals,  and  on  the  first  Sun- 
day in  the  month.  To  the  sermons  to  be  preached  by 
the  Dean  at  Christmas,  Easter,  and  All  Saints,  were 
added  Whitsunday  and  the  Purification.  The  Preben- 
daries at  this  time  were  very  irregular  in  their  attend- 
ance —  some  absent  altogether  — '  some  disaffected^  — 
and  would  not  come  to  church.'  When  they  did  come, 
they  occupied  a  pew  called  the  '  Knight's  Pew.' 

Goodman's  occupation  of  the  Deanery  was,  long  after 
his  death,  remembered  by  an  apartment  known  by  the 

1  See  Memoirs  of  Dean  Goodman  by  Archdeacon  Newcome  (Ruthin, 
1816). 

2  Chapter  Book,  1566  and  1470.  »  ibid.  1593. 
*  Ibid.  1607. 

6  State  Papers,  1635-36. 


THE  CHAPTER  UNDER  JAMES  I.       241 

name  of  '  Dean  Goodman's  Chamber.'  ^  He  addressed 
the  House  of  Commons  in  person  to  preserve  the  privi- 
leges of  sanctuary  to  his  Church,  and  succeeded  for 
a  time  in  averting  the  change.  He  was  the  virtual 
founder  of  the  Corporation  of  Westminster,  of  which 
the  shadow  still  remains  in  the  twelve  Burgesses,  the 
High  Steward,  and  the  High  Bailiff  of  Westminster  — 
the  last  relic  of  the  '  temporal  power '  of  the  ancient 
Abbots.  His  High  Steward  was  no  less  a  person  than 
Lord  Burleigh.2 

To  the  School  he  secured  '  the  Pest  House  '  or  '  Sana- 
torium '  on  the  river-side  at  Chiswick,^  and  planted  with 
his  own  hands  a  row  of  elms,  some  of  which  The  Pest 

^  .,,  ,,  .         ,  ,.  n    ^  ^         t     ■       House  at 

are  still  standing  in  the  adjacent  tield.  it  is  ciiiswick. 
on  record  that  Busby  resided  there,  with  some  of  his 
scholars,  in  the  year  1657.  When,  in  our  own  time, 
this  house  was  in  the  tenure  of  Mr.  Berry  and  his  two 
celebrated  daughters,  the  names  of  Montague  Earl  of 
Halifax,  John  Dryden,  and  other  pupils  of  Busby,  were 
to  be  seen  on  its  walls.  Dr.  Nicolls  was  the  last  Mas- 
ter who  frequented  it.  Till  quite  recently  a  piece  of 
ground  was  reserved  for  the  games  of  the  Scholars.  Of 
late  years  its  use  has  been  superseded  by  the  erection 
of  a  Sanatorium  in  the  College  Garden. 

Goodman  might  already  well  be  proud  of  the  School, 
which  had  for  its  rulers  Alexander  Nowell  and  William 
Camden.     Nowell,  whose  life  belongs  to  St.  Noweii, 
Paul's,   of  which  he  afterwards  became  the  1453. 
Dean,  was  remarkable  at  Westminster  as  the  founder 

1  Archives.  —  He  gave  two  of  the  bells,  which  still  bear  the  inscrip- 
tion, '  Patrem  laudate  sonantibus  cultum.    Gabriel  Goodman  Decanus,  1598.' 

2  Strvpe's  Mem.  of  Parker.     See  Chapter  IV. 

3  There  had  before  been  a  house  for  the  '  children '  at  Wheethamp' 
sted  and  at  Putney.     (Chapter  Book,  1515,  1561.) 

VOL.  II.  — 16 


242         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

of  the  Terence  Plays. ^  The  ilhistrious  Camden,  after 
having  been  Second  Master,^  was  then,  though  a  layman, 
Camden,  by  the  Qucen's  request,  appointed  Headmaster, 
1593-99.  *  and  in  order  that  '  he  might  be  near  to  her 
call  and  commandment,  and  eased  of  the  charge  of 
living,'  was  to  have  his  '  food  and  diet '  in  the  College 
Hall.^  '  I  know  not,'  he  proudly  writes,  '  who  may  say 
I  was  ambitious,  who  contented  myself  in  Westminster 
School  when  I  writ  my  "  Britannia." '  ^ 

Lancelot  Andrewes,  the  most  devout  and,  at  the  same 
time,  the  most  honest^  of  the  nascent  High  Church 
Lancelot  party  of  that  period,  lamented  alike  by  Clar- 
iGOi-5.  '  en  don  and  by  Milton,  was  Dean  for  five 
years.  Under  his  care,  probably  in  the  Deanery,  met 
the  Westminster  Committee  of  the  Authorised  Version 
of  James  I.,  to  which  was  confided  the  translation  of 
the  Old  Testament,  from  Genesis  to  Kings,  and  of  the 
Epistles  in  the  New.  In  him  the  close  connection  of 
the  Abbey  with  the  School  reached  its  climax.  '  The 
Monastery  of  the  West '  (to  ein^e<^vptov)  was  faithfully 
remembered  in  his  well-known  '  Prayers.'  Dean  Wil- 
liams, in  the  next  generation,  '  had  heard  much  what 
pains  Dr.  Andrewes  did  take  both  day  and  night  to  train 
up  the  youth  bred  in  the  Public  School,  chiefly  the 
alumni  of  the  College  so  called  ; '  and  in  answer  to  his 
questions,  Hacket,  who  had  been  one  of  these  scholars, 

told  him  how  strict  that  excellent  man  was  to  charge  our 
masters  that  they  should  give  us  lessons  out  of  none  but  the 

1  Alumni  Westmonast.,  p.  2.  ^  Chapter  Book,  1587. 

8  State  Papers,  1594. 

*  Alumni  Weslmonast.,  p.  13.  (For  Camden's  tomb  see  Chapter  IV. 
p.  137.) 

^  See  his  conduct  to  Abbot  in  his  misfortunes,  and  his  rebuke  to 
Neale.    Andrewes  was  appointed  Bishop  of  Chichester  1605,  translated 


THE  CHAPTEE  UNDER  JAMES  I.       243 

most  classical  authors  ;  that  lie  did  often  supply  the  place  both 
of  the  head-schoolmaster  and  usher  for  the  space  of  an  whole 
•week  together,  and  gave  us  not  an  hour  of  loitering-time  from 
morning  to  night :  how  he  caused  our  exercises  in  prose  and 
verse  to  be  brought  to  him,  to  examine  our  style  and  pro- 
ficiency ;  that  he  never  walked  to  Chiswick  for  his  recreation 
without  a  brace  of  this  young  fry  ;  and  in  that  wayfaring  leis- 
ure had  a  singular  dexterity  to  fill  those  narrow  vessels  with 
a  funnel.  And,  which  was  the  greatest  burden  of  his  toil, 
sometimes  thrice  in  a  week,  sometimes  oftener,  he  sent  for  the 
uppermost  scholars  to  his  lodgings  at  night,  and  kept  them 
with  him  from  eight  to  eleven,  unfolding  to  them  the  best 
rudiments  of  the  Greek  tongue  and  the  elements  of  the 
Hebrew  Grammar ;  and  all  this  he  did  to  boys  without  any 
compulsion  of  correction  —  nay,  I  never  heard  him  utter  so 
much  as  a  word  of  austerity  among  us,' 

In  these  long  rambles  to  Chiswick  he  in  fact  indulged  ^ 
his  favourite  passion  from  his  youth  upwards  of  walk- 
ing either  by  himself  or  with  some  chosen  companions, 

with  whom  he  might  confer  and  argue  and  recount  their 
studies  :  and  he  would  often  profess,  that  to  observe  the 
grass,  herbs,  corn,  trees,  cattle,  earth,  water,  heavens,  any  of 
the  creatures,  and  to  contemplate  their  natures,  orders,  quali- 
ties, virtues,  uses,  was  ever  to  him  the  greatest  mirth,  content, 
and  recreation  that  could  be  :  and  this  he  held  to  his  dying 
day. 

He  was  succeeded  by  Neale,  who  thence  ascended  the 
longest  ladder  of  ecclesiastical  preferments  recorded  in 

to  Ely  1609,  and  to  Winchester  1619  ;  died  September  25,  1626 ;  buried 
in  St.  Saviour's,  Southwark. 

1  Hacket's  Life  of  WlUiams  ;  Russell's  Life  of  Arulreives,  pp.  90,  91. 
—  Brian  Duppa,  who  succeeded  Andrewes  in  the  See  of  AVinchester, 
learned  Hebrew  from  hira  at  this  time.  (Duppa's  Epitaph  in  the 
Abbey.)  '■^  Fuller's  Abel  Redivivus. 


244        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

our  annals.^  Years  afterwards  they  met,  on  the  well- 
Richard  known  occasion  when  Waller  the  poet  heard 
1605-10.  the  witty  rebuke  which  Andrewes  gave  to  Neale 
as  they  stood  behind  the  chair  of  James  I.  Neale  was 
educated  at  Westminster,  and  pushed  forward  into  life 
by  Dean  Goodman  and  the  Cecils.  He  was  installed  as 
Dean  on  the  memorable  5th  of  November,  1605  ;  and 
after  his  elevation  to  the  See  of  Lichfield  and  Coventry, 
he  was  deputed  by  James  I.  to  conduct  to  the  Abbey 
the  remains  of  Mary  Stuart  from  Peterborough.^  It 
was  in  his  London  residence,  as  Bishop  of  Durham, 
that  he  laid  the  foundation  of  the  fortunes  of  his  friend 
Laud.  To  him,  as  Dean,  and  Ireland,^  as  Master,  was 
commended  young  George  Herbert  for  Westminster 
School,  where  '  the  beauties  of  his  pretty  behaviour  and 
wit  shined  and  became  so  eminent  and  lovely  in  this 
his  innocent  age,  that  he  seemed  marked  out  for  piety 
and  to  have  the  care  of  heaven,  and  of  a  particular  good 
angel  to  guard  and  guide  him.'  "* 

The  two  Deans  who  succeeded,  IMonteigne  ^  (or  Mon- 
tain)    and   Tounson,^   leave   but   slight    materials.     It 

1  Neale  was  appointed  to  the  See  of  Rochester  in  1608,  and  was 
thence  translated  to  Lichfield  and  Coventry  1610,  to  Lincoln  1614,  to 
Durham  1617,  to  Winchester  1627,  and  to  York  1631.  He  was  buried 
in  All  Saints'  Chapel,  in  York  Minster,  1640. 

2  Le  Neve's  Lives,  ii.  143.  See  Chapter  III.  A  statement  of  the 
Abbey  revenues  in  his  time  is  in  the  State  Papers,  vol.  Iviii.  No.  42. 

3  Ireland  went  abroad  in  1610,  nominally  for  ill  health,  really  under 
suspicion  of  Popery.     (Chapter  Book,  1610  ) 

*  Walton's  Life,  ii.  24.  Amongst  the  Prebendaries  at  this  time 
were  Richard  Hakluyt,  the  geographer,  and  Adrian  Saravia,  the  friend 
of  Hooker.  It  has  been  sometimes  said  that  Casaubon  held  a  stall  at 
Westminster,  but  of  this  there  is  no  evidence. 

s  Monteigne  was  appointed  Bishop  of  Lincoln  1617,  translated  to 
London  1621,  Durham  1627,  York  1628.  Died  and  buried  at  Cawood, 
1628. 

^  Tounson  was  appointed  Bishop  of  Salisbury  1620.  Buried  at  the 
entrance  of  St.  Edmund's  Chapel,  1621.     He  was  uncle  to  Fuller. 


DEAN   WILLIAMS.  245 

would  seem  that  a  suspicion  of  Monteigne's  ceremonial 
practices  was  the  first  beginning  of  the  trans-  q^^^.^^^ 
fer  of  the  worship  of  the  House  of  Commons  ^°io-n°"'' 
from    the    Abbey   to    St.    Margaret's.     It    is  Touiton, 
recorded   that   they   declined   to   receive  the  ^^"■^°- 
Communion  at  Westminster  Abbey,  '  for  fear  of  copes 
and  wafer  cakes.' ^     The   Dean  and   Canons   strongly 
resented  this,  but  gave   way  on  the  question  of  the 
bread.     Tounson,  as  we  have  seen,  was  with  Ralegh  ni 
the  neighbouring  Gatehouse  twice  on  the  night  before 
his  execution,  and  on  the  scaffold  remained  with  him 
to  the  last,  and  asked  him  in  what  faith  he  died.^     On 
his  appointment  to  the  See  of  Salisbury  he  was  suc- 
ceeded by  the  man  who  has  left  more  traces  of  himself 
in  the   office  than  any  of  his   predecessors,  and  than 
most  of  his  successors.     The  last  churchman  who  held 
the  Great   Seal  — the  last  who   occupied  at  once  an 
Archbishopric  and  a  Deanery  — one  of  the  few  emi- 
nent Welshmen  who  have  figured  in  history,  —  John 
Williams  —  carried  all  his  energy  into  the  ^ohn^^^^ 
precincts  of   Westminster.     He   might   have  1620-50.  ' 
been  head  of  the  Deanery  of  Westminster  from  his 
earliest  years;   for  he  was  educated  at'^  Euthin,  the 
school   founded   by   his    predecessor   and   countryman 
Dean  Goodman.     His  own  interest  in  the  Abbey  was 
intense.*     Abbot  Islip  and  Bishop  Andrewes  were  his 
two  models  amongst  his  predecessors  —  the  one  from 
his   benefactions    to   the   Abbey,  the   other   from   his 
services  to  the  School :  — 

1  State  Papers,  1614,  1621.  ^  See  Chapter  V. 

3  See  Notices  of  Archbishop  ^Yilliams  by  B.  H.  Beedham,  p.^  8. 

4  He  had  the  usual  troubles  of  imperious  rulers.  Ladies  with  yel- 
low ruffs  he  forbade  to  be  admitted  into  his  church.  (State  Papers, 
vol.  cxiii.  No.  18,  March  11,  1620-21.)  He  alsocarried  on  the  war  with 
the  House  of  Commous  which  his  predecessors  had  begun.     They 


246        THE  ABBEY   SINCE   THE   EEFORMATION. 

The  piety  and  liberality  of  Abbot  Islip  to  this  dome  came 
into  Dr.  Williams  by  transmigration ;  who,  in  his  entrance 
into  that  place,  found  the  Church  in  such  decay,  that  all  that 
passed  by,  and  loved  the  honour  of  God's  house,  shook  their 
heads  at  the  stones  that  dropped  down  from  the  pinnacles. 
Therefore,  that  the  ruins  of  it  might  be  no  more  a  reproach, 
this  godly  Jehoiada  took  care  for  the  Temple  of  the  Lord,  to 
repair  it,  '  set  it  in  its  state,  and  to  strengthen  it.' 

Hisbenefac-       -^  '  '  ° 

tions  to  the    He  began  at  the  south-east  part,  which  looked  the 

Abbey,  ^  . 

more  deformed  with  decay,  because  it  was  coupled 
with  a  later  building,  the  Chapel  of  King  Henry  VII.,  which 
was  tight  and  fresh.  The  north-west  part  also,  which  looks 
to  the  Great  Sanctuary,  was  far  gone  in  dilapidations  :  the 
great  buttresses,  which  were  almost  crumbled  to  dust  with 
the  injuries  of  the  weather,  he  re-edified  with  durable  mate- 
rials, and  beautified  with  elegant  statues  (among  whom  Abbot 
Islip  had  a  place),  so  that  £4500  were  expended  in  a  trice 
upon  the  workmanship.  All  this  Avas  his  cost :  neither 
would  he  impatronise  his  name  to  the  credit  of  that  work 
which  should  be  raised  up  by  other  men's  collatitious  liber- 
ality. ■*  For  their  further  satisfaction,  who  will  judge  of  good 
w^orks  by  visions  and  not  by  dreams,  I  will  cast  up,  in  a  true 
audit,  other  deeds  of  no  small  reckoning,  conducing  greatly 
to  the  welfare  of  that  college,  church,  and  liberty,  wherein 
to  the  pisty  and  benficence  were  relucent   in   despite   of 

^^°""'  jealousies.     First,  that  God  might  be  praised  with 

a  cheerful  noise  in  His  sanctuary,  he  procured  the  sweetest 
music,  both  for  the  organ  and  for  the  voices  of  all  parts,  that 

claimed  to  appoint  tlieir  own  precentor  at  St.  Marsjaret's,  '  Dr.  Usher, 
an  Irishman,'  doubtless  the  future  Primate.  William.s  claimed  the 
right  of  nomination  on  the  ground  that  St.  Margaret's  was  under 
his  cure.  The  Commons,  after  threatening  migration  to  St.  Paul's, 
Christ  Church,  and  the  Temple,  by  the  King's  order  at  last  returned  to 
St.  Margaret's.     (State  Papers,  Feb.  22,  1821-22.) , 

1  A  Chapter  account,  signed  by  the  Dean  and  eight  of  the  Canons, 
repudiates  the  calumny  that  the  Dean  had  made  the  repairs  '  out  of  the 
diet  and  bellies  of  the  Prebendaries.'  (Chapter  Book,  December  8, 
1628.) 


DEAN  WILLIAMS.  247 

ever  was  heard  in  an  English  choir.  In  those  days  that 
Abbey,  and  Jerusalem  Chauibei',  where  he  gave  entertain- 
ment to  his  friends,  were  the  volaries  of  the  choicest  singers 
that  the  land  had  bred.  The  greatest  masters  of  that  delight- 
ful faculty  frequented  him  above  all  others,  and  were  never 
nice  to  serve  him ;  and  some  of  the  most  famous  yet  living 
will  confess  he  was  never  nice  to  reward  them  :  a  lover  could 
not  court  his  mistress  with  more  prodigal  effusion  of  gifts. 
With  the  same  generosity  and  strong  propension  of  mind  to 
enlarge  the  boundaries  of  learning,  he  converted  a  j^  ^he 
waste  room,  situate  in  the  east  side  of  the  Cloisters,  library, 
into  Plato's  Portico,  into  a  goodly  Library  :  ^  modelled  it  into 
decent  shape,  furnished  it  with  desks  and  chairs,  accoutred  it 
with  all  utensils,  and  stored  it  with  a  vast  number  of  learned 
volumes;  for  which  use  he  lighted  most  fortunately  upon 
the  study  of  that  learned  gentleman,  Mr.  Baker,  of  Highgate, 
who,  in  a  long  and  industrious  life,  had  collected  into  his 
own  possession  the  best  authors  of  all  sciences,  in  their  best 
editions,  which,  being  bought  at  £500  (a  cheap  pennyworth 
for  such  precious  ware),  were  removed  into  this  storehouse. 
When  he  received  thanks  from  all  the  professors  of  learning 
in  and  about  London,  far  beyond  his  expectations,  because 
they  had  free  admittance  to  suck  honey  from  the  flowers  of 
such  a  garden  as  they  wanted  before,  it  compelled  him  to 
unlock  his  cabinet  of  jewels,  and  bring  forth  his  choicest 
manuscripts.  A  right  noble  gift  in  all  the  books  he  gave  to 
this  Serapeum,  but  especially  the  parchments.  Some  good 
authors  were  conferred  by  other  benefactors,  but  the  richest 

1  For  the  first  formation  of  this  Library,  see  p.  114. —  The  order 
for  its  repair  and  furniture,  May  16,  1587,  seems  to  have  been  imper- 
fectly carried  out ;  and,  accordingly,  when  Williams  '  re-edified  it,'  it 
required  a  new  order  to  arrange  it  properly.  Williams  replenished  it 
with  books  to  the  value  of  £2000,  and  Richard  Goulard,  '  for  his  very 
great  and  assiduous  pains  for  the  last  two  years  past,  as  in  the  choice 
so  in  the  well  ordering  of  the  books.'  was  made  Librarian, '  with  a  place 
and  diet  at  the  Dean  and  Prebendaries'  table  in  the  College  Hall.' 
(Chapter  Book,  January  22,  1625-26. J 


248        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

fruit  was  sliaken  from  the  boughs  of  this  one  tree,  wliich  will 
keep  green  in  an  unfading  memory  in  despite  of  the  tempest 
of  iniquity.  I  cannot  end  with  the  erection  of  this  Library  : 
for  this  Dean  gratified  the  College  with  many  other  benefits. 
When  he  came  to  look  into  the  state  of  the  house,  he  found 
it  in  a  debt  of  £300  by  the  hospitality  of  the  table.  It  had 
then  a  brotherhood  of  most  worthy  Prebendaries  —  Mount- 
ford,  Sutton,  Laud,  Ctesar,  Eobiuson,  Darell,  Fox,  King, 
Newell,  and  the  rest ;  but  ancient  frugal  diet  was  laid  aside 
in  all  places,  and  the  prices  of  provisions  in  less  than  fifteen 
years  were  doubled  in  all  markets,  by  which  enhancement 
the  debt  was  contracted,  and  by  him  discharged.  Not  long 
to  the  after,  to  the  number  of  the  forty  scholars  he  added 

School,  £j-,^j.  j^^QYQ^  distinguished  from  the  rest  in  their 
habit  of  violet-coloured  gowns,  for  whose  maintenance  he 
purchased  lan<ls.-^  These  were  adopted  children ;  and  in 
this  diverse  from  the  natural  children,  that  the  place  to 
which  they  are  removed,  when  they  deserve  it  by  their  learn- 
ing, is  St.  John's  College,  in  Cambridge ;  and  in  those  days, 
when  good  turns  were  received  with  the  right  hand,  it  was 
to  the  esteemed  among  the  praises  of  a  stout  and  vigilant 

Burgesses.  Dean,  that  whereas  a  great  limb  of  the  liberties  of 
the  city  (of  Westminster)  was  threatened  to  be  cut  off'  by  the 
encroachments  of  the  higher  power  of  the  Lord  Stewart  of 
the  King's  household,  and  the  Knight-Marshal  with  his  tip- 
staves, he  stood  up  against  them  with  a  wise  and  confident 
spirit,  and  would  take  no  composition  to  let  them  share  in 
those  privileges,  which  by  right  they  never  had ;  but  pre- 
served the  charter  of  his  place  in  its  entire  jurisdiction  and 
laudable  immunities.^ 

In  1621  Williams  succeeded  Bacon  as  Lord  Keeper. 
It  is  in  this  capacity  that  he  is  known  to  us  in  his  por- 

1  Both  here  and  at  St.  John's,  the  funds  wliich  he  left  for  these 
purposes  were  wholly  inadequate  to  maintain  them. 

2  Hacket,  pp.  45,  46. 


DEAN   WILLIAMS.  249 

traits/  with  his  official  hat  on  his  head,  and  the  Great 
Seal  by  his  side.    The  astonishment  produced  Lord 
by  this  unwonted  elevation  —  his  own  incredi-  Juiy'io; 
ble   labours   to   meet  the   exigencies    of   the  signed  the 

seal  Oct  30 

office  —  must  be  left  to  his  biograplier.  For  less; 
its  connection  with  Westminster,  it  is  enough  to  record 
that  on  the  day  when  he  took  his  place  in  Court,  '  he 
set  out  early  in  the  morning  with  the  company  of  the 
Judges  and  some  few  more,  and  passing  through  the 
Cloisters,  he  carried  them  with  him  into  the  Chapel  of 
Henry  YII.,  where  he  prayed  on  his  knees  (silently, 
but  very  devoutly,  as  might  be  seen  by  his  gesture) 
almost  a  quarter  of  an  hour ;  then  rising  up  very 
cheerfully,  he  was  conducted  with  no  other  train  to  a 
mighty  confluence  that  expected  him  in  Westminster 
Hall,  whom,  from  the  Bench  of  the  Court  of  Chancery 
[then  at  the  upper  end  of  the  Hall],  he  greeted '  with 
his  opening  speech.^ 

In  that  same  Chapel,  following  the  precedents  of  the 
Eeformation,  he  had,  a  short  time  before,  been  conse- 
crated Bishop  —  not  (as  usual)  at  Lambeth,^  Bishop  of 
because  of  the  scruple  which  he  professed  to  noT'ii' 
entertain  at  'receiving  that  solemnity'  from  ^*^^^' 
the  hands  of  Archbishop  Abbot,  who  had  just  shot  the 
gamekeeper  at  Bramshill.     It  was  the  See  of  Lincoln 
which  was  bestowed  on  him  — '  the  largest  diocese  in 
the  land,  because  this  new  elect  had  the  largest  w^isdom 
to  superintend  so  great  a  circuit.    Yet,  inasmuch  as  the 
revenue  of  it  was  not  great,  it  was  well   pieced  out 

1  There  are  two  portraits  of  him  in  the  Deanery,  one  iu  the 
Chapter  Library,  which  was  repainted  1823.  (Chapter  Book,  June 
23,  1823.) 

2  Hacket,  p.  71. 

^  So  Laud  (Nov.  18,  1621)  was  consecrated  in  the  Chapel  of  London 
House. 


250        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

with  a  grant  ^  to  hold  the  Deanery  of  Westminster, 
into  which  he  shut  himself  fast,  with  as  strong  bars 
and  bolts  as  the  law  could  make.'  In  answer  to  the 
obvious  objections  that  were  made  to  this  accumu- 
lation of  dignities,  the  locality  of  Westminster  plays  a 
considerable  part :  — 

The  port  of  the  Lord  Keeper's  place  must  be  maintained 
in  some  convenient  manner.  Here  he  was  handsomely 
housed,  which,  if  he  quitted,  he  must  trust  to  the  King  to 
provide  one  for  him.  .  .  .  Here  he  had  some  supplies  to  his 
housekeeping  from  the  College  in  bread  and  beer,  corn  and 
fuel.  .  .  .  In  that  College  he  needed  to  entertain  no  under- 
servants  or  petty  officers,  who  were  already  provided  to  his 
hand.  .  .  .  And  it  was  but  a  step  from  thence  to  West- 
minster Hall,  where  his  business  lay ;  and  it  was  a  lodging 
which  afibrded  him  marvellous  quietness,  to  turn  over  his 
papers  and  to  serve  the  King.  He  might  have  added  (for  it 
was  in  the  bottom  of  his  breast)  he  was  loth  to  stir  from  that 
seat  where  he  had  the  command  of  such  exquisite  music.  ^ 

These  arguments  were  more  satisfactory  to  himself 
than  to  his  enemies,  in  whose  eyes  he  was  a  kind  of 
ecclesiastical  monster,  and  who  ironically  describe  him 
as  having  thus  become  '  a  perfect  diocese  in  himself '  ^ 
— Bishop,  Dean,  Prebend,  Eesidentiary,  and  Parson.* 

1  As  long  as  he  held  the  Great  Seal.     (State  Papers,  1G21.) 

2  Hacket,  p.  62.  —  He  also  kept  the  Rectory  of  Walgrave,  which  he 
justified  to  Hacket  by  the  examples  of  '  Elijah's  commons  in  the  obscure 
village  of  Zarepheth,  Anselni's  Cell  at  Bee,  Gardiner's  Mastership  of 
Trinity  Hall,  Plautus's  fable  of  the  Mouse  with  many  Holes.'  '  Wal- 
grave,' he  said,  '  is  but  a  mousehole  ;  and  yet  it  will  be  a  pretty  fortifi- 
cation to  entertain  me  if  I  have  no  other  home  to  resort  to.'  For  a 
description  of  Walgrave,  see  Beedham's  Notices  of  Archbishop  Wil- 
liams, p.  23.  His  next  neighbour  (at  Wold)  was  his  immediate  prede- 
cessor, Dean  Tounson. 

2  He  was  dispensed  by  the  Chapter  from  all  residence  for  a  year. 
(Chapter  Book,  .J.anuary  27,  1625.) 

*  Heylin's  Cijprianus,  p.  86.    There  was  a  strong  belief  that  during 


DEAN  WILLIAMS.  251 

The  scene  which  follows  mtroduces  us  to  a  new 
phase  in  the  history  of  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  —  its 
convivial  aspect,  which,  from  time  to  time,  it  has  always 
retained  since  :  — 

When  tlie  coiifereuces  about  the  marriage  of  Prince  Charles 
with  Henrietta  Maria  were  gone  so  far,  and  seemed,  as  it  were, 
to  be  over  the  last  lire,  and  fit  for  proiection,  his 

'  ^      ^      ''  Entertain- 

Majesty  would  have  the  Lord  Keeper  taken  into  ments  in  the 

,        „   ,  .  1  1       1  •        1  1  Jerusalem 

the  Cabinet ;  and,  to  make  him  known  by  a  mark  cuamber. 

Dee.  15  1624, 

of  some  good  address  to  the  French  gallants,  upon 
the  return  of  the  Ambassadors  to  London,  he  sent  a  message 
to  him  to  signify  that  it  was  bis  pleasure  that  his  Lordship 
should  give  an  eutertainment  to  the  Ambassadors  and  their 
train  on  Wednesday  following  —  it  being  Christmas  day  with 
them,  according  to  the  Gregorian  prse-occupation  of  ten  days 
before  our  account.  The  King's  will  signified,  the  invitement 
at  a  supper  was  given  and  taken  ;  which  was  provided  in 
the  College  of  Westminster,  in  the  room  named  Hierusalem 
Chamber ;  ^  but  for  that  night  it  might  have  been  called 
Lucullus  his  Apollo.  But  the  ante-past  was  kept  in  the 
Abbey ;  as  it  went  before  the  feast,  so  it  was  beyond  it, 
being  purely  an  episcopal  collation.  The  Ambassadors,  with 
the  nobles  and  gentlemen  in  their  company,  were  brought  in 
at  the  north  gate  of  the  Abbey,  which  was  stucic  witli  flam- 
beaux everywhere  both  within  and  without  the  Quire,  that 
strangers  might  cast  their  eyes  upon  the  stateliuess  of  the 
church.     At  the  door  of  the  Quire  the  Lord  Keeper  besought 

the  Spanish  journey  he  had  made  interest  with  Buckingham  to  add 
to  his  honour  yet  another  dignity  —  that  of  Cardinal.  (See  Sydney 
Papers,  Note  A.) 

1  The  first  distinct  notice  of  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  being  used  for 
the  Chapter  is  in  Williams's  time.  (Chapter  Book,  Decemlier  13,  1638.) 
It  was  probably  in  commemoration  of  this  French  entertainment  that 
Williams  put  up  in  the  Chamber  the  chimney-piece  of  cedar-wood 
which  has  his  arms  and  the  heads  of  King  Charles  and  Queen  Henri- 
etta Maria. 


252        THE  ABBEY   SINCE   THE   KEFORMATION. 

their  Lordships  to  go  in  and  to  take  their  seats  there  for  a 
while,  promising,  on  the  word  of  a  bishop,  that  nothing  of 
The  first  ill  relish  sliould  be  offered  before  tnem,  which  they 
Festival  in  accepted ;  and  at  their  entrance  the  organ  ^  was 
the  Abbey,  touched  by  the  best  finger  of  that  age  —  Mr.  Orlando 
Gibbons.  While  a  verse  was  played,  the  Lord  Keeper  pre- 
sented the  Ambassadors,  and  the  rest  of  the  noblest  quahty  of 
their  nation,  with  our  Liturgy,  as  it  spake  to  them  in  their 
own  language  ;  and  in  the  delivery  of  it  used  these  few  words, 
but  pithy  :  '  that  their  Lordships  at  leisure  miglit  read  in 
that  book  in  what  form  of  holiness  our  Prince  worshipped 
God,  wherein  he  durst  say  nothing  savoured  of  any  corrup- 
tion of  doctrine,  much  less  of  heresy,  wliich  ho  hoped  would 
be  so  reported  to  the  Lady  Princess  Henrietta.'  The  Lords 
Ambassadors  and  their  great  train  took  up  all  the  stalls, 
where  they  continued  about  half  an  hour ;  while  the  quire- 
men,  vested  in  their  rich  copes,^  with  their  choristers,  sang 
three  several  anthems  with  most  exquisite  voices  before  them. 
The  most  honourable  and  the  meanest  persons  of  the  French 
all  that  time  uncovered  with  great  reverence,  except  that 
Secretary  Villoclare  alone  kept  on  his  hat.  And  when  all 
others  carried  away  the  Books  of  Common  Prayer  commended 
to  them,  he  only  left  his  in  the  stall  of  the  Quire,  where  he 
had  sate,  which  was  not  brought  after  him  {Ne  Margarita, 
etc.)  as  if  he  had  forgot  it.^ 

Another  scene,  which  brings  before  us  Christmas 
Day  as  then  kept  in  the  Abbey  and  in  the  College  Hall, 
belongs  to  this  time.  Amongst  the  guests  was  a  French 
Abbot,  '  but  a  gentleman  that  held  his  abbacy  in  a  lay 
capacity.'  He  expressed  a  desire  to  be  present  upon 
our  Christmas  Day  in  the  morning:  — 

1  For  Williams's  delight  in  music  at  Buckdon,  see  Cade's  Sermon 
on  Conscience  (quoted  in  Notices,  p.  31). 

2  The  mention  of  the  rich  copes  of  the  'quiremen'  {i.e.  of  the  lay 
vicars)  is  worth  noting,  as  showing  in  what  sense  these  vestments  were 
then  applied  in  the  Abbey.  ^  Bernard's  Heylin,  pp.  162,  194. 


DEAN   WILLIAMS.  253 

The  Abbot   kept  his  hour  to  come  to  church  upon  that 
High  Feast ;  and  a  place  was  well  fancied  aloft,  with 
a  lattice  and  curtains  to  conceal  him.     Mr.  William  Day  wm? 
Boswell,  like  Philip  riding  with  the  treasurer  of  AbboToec. 
Queen  Candace  in  the  same  chariot,  sate  with  him,  ^^'  ^^~^' 
directing  him  in  the  process  of  all  the  sacred  offices  performed, 
and  made  clear  explanation  to  all  his  scruples.^     The  church- 
work  of  that  ever-blessed  day  fell  to  the  Lord  Keeper  to  per- 
form it,  but  in   the    place   of  the  Dean  of  that  Collegiate 
Church.     He  sung  the  service,  preached  the  sermon,  conse- 
crated the  Lord's  Table,  and  (being  assisted  with  some  of  the 
Prebendaries)  distributed  the  elements  of  the  Holy  Commun- 
ion to  a  great  multitude  meekly  kneeling  upon  their  knees. 
Four  hours  and  better  were  spent  that  morning  before  the 
congregation   was    dismissed    with    the    episcopal    blessing. 
The  Abbot  was  entreated  to  be  a  guest  at  the  dinner  provided 
in  the  College  Hall,  where  all  the  members  of  that  incorpora- 
tion feasted  together,  even  to  the  Eleemosynaries,  called  tlie 
Beadsmen  of  the  Foundation  ;  no  distinction  being  made,  but 
high  and  low  eating  their  meat  with  gladness  together  upon 
the  occasion  of   our  Saviour's  nativity  and  it  might  not  be 
forgotten  that  the  poor  shepherds  were  admitted  to  worship 
the  Babe  in  the  Manger  as  well  as  the  potentates  of  the  East, 
who  brought  rich  presents  to  offer  up  at  the  shrine  of  His 
cradle.     All  having  had  their  comfort  both  in  spiritual  and 
bodily  repast,  the  Master  of  the  Feast  and  the  Abbot,  with 
some  few  beside,  retired  into  a  gallery.^ 

In  this  gallery  —  whether  that  above  the  Hall,  or 
the  corridor  —  or  possibly  the  long  chamber  in  the 
Deanery,  we  must  conceive  the  conversation,  as  carried 
on  between  the  Lord  Keeper  and  '  his  brother  Abbot,' 

1  Probably  in  the  organ-loft.     Boswell  was  Williams's  secretary. 

■-  Hacket,  pp.  211,  212.  A  reception  in  some  respects  similar  was 
given  to  the  Greek  Archbishop  of  Syra  iu  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  in 
1870. 


254         THE   ABBEY  SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

on  the  comparison,  suggested  by  what  the  Frenchman 
had  seen,  between  the  Church  of  England  and  the  Con- 
tinental Churches,  both  Roman  Catholic  and  Protestant. 
Let  them  part  with  the  concluding  remark  of  the  Lord 
Keeper:  —  'I  used  to  say  it  often  that  there  ought  to 
be  no  secret  antipathies  in  Divinity  or  in  churches 
for  which  no  reason  can  be  given.  But  let  every  house 
sweep  the  dust  from  their  own  door.  We  have  done 
our  endeavour,  God  be  praised,  in  England  to  model  a 
Church  way  which  is  not  afraid  to  be  searched  into  by 
the  sharpest  critics  for  purity  and  antiquity.  But,  as 
Pacatus  said  in  his  panegyric  in  another  case,  Parum 
est  quando  cce,])e,rit  tcrminum  non  hahchit.  Yet  I  am 
confident  it  began  when  Christ  taught  upon  earth,  and 
I  hope  it  shall  last  till  He  comes  again.'  '  I  will  put 
my  attestation  thus  far  to  your  confidence '  (said  the 
Abbot),  '  that  I  think  you  are  not  far  from  the  King- 
dom of  Heaven.'  So,  with  mutual  smiles  and  em- 
braces, they  parted. 

This  was  the  last  year  of  Williams's  power  and 
favour  at  Court.  Within  three  months  from  this  enter- 
Fuiieraiof     taiumeut  King  James  died.     The  Dean  was 

James  I.  i-ii  ii'i> 

1625.  present  durmg  his  last  hours,  and  at  his  fu- 

neral in  the  Abbey  preached  the  famous  sermon,  on  the 
text  (2  Chron.  ix.  31),  '  Solomon  slept  with  his  fathers, 
and  he  was  buried  in  the  city  of  David  his  father ; '  and 
(as  his  biographer  adds) '  no  farther '  (i.  c.  with  a  studious 
omission  of  '  Rehoboam  his  son').  '  He  never  studied 
anything  with  more  care,  taking  for  his  pattern  Fisher's 
sermon  at  the  funeral  of  Henry  VII.,  and  Cardinal 
Peron's  sermon  for  Henry  IV.  of  France.'  ^ 

^  Two  other  sermons  were  preached  by  him  in  the  Abbey  before  the 
House  of  Lords ;  one  on  Ash  Wednesday,  Feb.  18,  1628,  the  other  on 
April  6,  1628  (on  Gal.  vi.  14). 


DEAN   WILLIAMS.  255 

Then  the  power  of  Williams  in  Westminster  suddenly 
waned.  His  rival  Laud,^  who  was  his  bitter  antagonist 
amongst  the  Prebendaries  of  Westminster,  was  ^  .  i 
now  in  the  ascendant.  The  slight  put  upon  him  prebeu^aa- 
at  the  Coronation  of  Charles  I.  has  been  already  ''"'^' 
mentioned,  and  henceforth  he  resided  chiefly  at  his 
palace  near  Lincoln,  only  coming  up  to  Westminster 
at  the  times  absolutely  required  by  the  Statutes  of  the 
Abbey.  Two  scenes  in  the  Abbey  belong  to  this  period. 
The  first  is  in  the  early  morniug  of  Trmity  Sunday, 
1626,  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel.  It  was  the  ordination 
of  the  saintly  layman  Nicholas  Ferrar  to  his  perpetual 
Diaconate  by  Laud  as  Bishop  of  St.  David's,  to  whom 
he  was  brought  by  his  tutor,  Laud's  friend,  Dean  Linsell. 
Apparently  they  three  alone  were  present.  Laud  had 
been  prepared  by  Linsell '  to  receive  him  there  with  very 
particular  esteem,  and  with  a  great  deal  of  joy,  that  he 
was  able  to  lay  hands  on  so  extraordinary  a  person. 
So  he  was  ordained  deacon  and  no  more,  for  he  pro- 
tested he  durst  not  advance  one  step  higher.'  .  .  . 
'The  news  of  his  takmg  orders  quickly  spread  all 
over  the  city  and  the  court.'  ^  Some  blamed  him, 
but  others,  with  Sir  Edwin  Sandys,  approved.  Another 
less  edifying  incident  takes  us  to  the  Cloisters  at 
night.^  It  is  Lilly  the  astrologer  who  speaks,  in  the 
year  1637:  — 

1  For  the  attention  which  Laud  devoted  to  the  School,  see  the  in- 
teresting regulations  of  its  hours  and  studies  preserved  in  his  hand- 
writing.    {Liisus  West.,n.  330.) 

-  Jebb's  Life  of  Ferrar.  (Mayor's  Cambridge  in  the  Seventeenth  Cen- 
tury, p.  226.)  The  same  incident  is  told  in  the  life  by  his  brother. 
(Ibid.  p.  24.)  '  They  two  went  to  Westminster  Chapel,  his  tutor  having 
spoken  to  Bishop  Laud  ...  to  persuade  him  to  be  there,  and  to  lay 
his  hands  upon  him  to  make  him  Deacon.' 

8  This  doubtless  suggested  a  well-known  passage  iu  the  Antiquary. 


256         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

Davy  Eamsey,  his  Majesty's  clock-maker,  had  heen  informed 
that  there  was  a  great  quantity  of  treasixre  huried  in  the 
Cloyster  of  Westminster  Abbey  ;  he  acquaints  Dean  Williams 
therewith,  who  was  also  then  Bishop  of  Lincoln ;  the  Dean 
o-ave  him  liberty  to  search  after  it,  with  this  proviso,  that  if 
any  was  discovered,  his  church  should  have  a  share  of  it. 
Davy  Eamsey  finds  out  one  John  Scott,  who  lived  in  Pud- 
ding Lane,  and  had  sometime  been  a  page  (or  such  like) 
to  the  Lord  Norris,  and  who  pretended  the  use  of  the  Mosa- 
ical  Eods,  to  assist  him  herein  :  I  was  desired  to  join  with 
him,  unto  which  1  consented.  One  winter's  night  Davy 
Eamsey  with  several  gentlemen,  myself,  and  Scott,  entered 
the  Cloysters  ;  Davy  Eamsey  brought  an  half-quartern  sack  to 
put  the  treasure  in ;  we  played  the  hazel-rod  round  about  the 
Cloyster ;  upon  the  west  side  of  the  Cloysters  the  rods  turned 
one  over  another,  an  argument  that  the  treasure  was  there. 
The  labourers  digged  at  least  six  foot  deep,  and  then  we  met 
with  a  coffin ;  but  in  regard  it  was  not  heavy,  we  did  not 
open,  which  we  afterwards  much  repented.  From  the  Cloys- 
ters we  went  into  the  Abbey-Church,  where,  upon  a  sudden 
(there  being  no  wind  when  we  began),  so  fierce,  so  high,  so 
blustering  and  loud  a  wind  did  rise,  that  we  verily  believed 
the  west  end  of  the  church  would  have  fallen  upon  us  ;  our 
rods  would  not  move  at  all ;  the  candles  and  torches,  all  but 
one,  were  extinguished,  or  burned  very  dimly.  John  Scott, 
my  partner,  was  amazed,  looked  pale,  knew  not  what  to  think 
or  do,  until  I  gave  directions  and  command  to  dismiss  the 
daemons  ;  which  when  done,  all  was  quiet  again,  and  each 
man  returned  unto  his  lodging  late,  about  12  a  clock  at 
night;  I  could  never  since  be  induced  to  joyn  with  any 
in  such  like  actions.  The  true  miscarriage  of  the  business 
was  by  reason  of  so  many  people  being  present  at  the  op- 
eration, for  there  was  above  thirty,  some  laughing,  others 
deriding  us ;  so  that  if  we  had  not  dismissed  the  daemons, 
I  believe  most  part  of  the  Abbey-Church  had  been  blown 
down ;  secrecy  and  intelligent  operators,  with  a  strong  con- 


DExiN   WILLIAMS.  257 

fidence  and  knowledge  of  what  they  are  doing,  are  best  for 
this  work.-^ 

Amongst  the  thirty-six  articles  of  complaint  raised 
against  Williams  by  his  enemies  in  the  Chapter,  many 
had  direct  reference  to  his  Westminster  life  —  such  as, 
'  that  he  came  too  late  for  service,'  '  came  without  his 
habit  on,'  etc.  The  'articles,'  says  Hacket  (speaking 
almost  as  if  he  had  seen  their  passage  over  the  venera- 
ble pinnacles),  '  flew  away  over  the  Abbey,  like  a  flock 
of  wild  geese,  if  you  cast  but  one  stone  amongst 
them.' 2  Williams  was  also  expressly  told  that  'the 
lustre  in  which  he  lived  at  Westminster  gave  offence 
to  the  King,  and  that  it  would  give  more  content  if  he 
would  part  with  his  Deanery,  his  Majesty  not  approv- 
ing of  his  being  so  near  a  neighbour  to  Whitehall.' 
One  great  prelate  (evidently  Laud)  plainly  said,  in  the 
presence  of  the  King  '  that  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  lived 
in  as  much  pomp  as  any  Cardinal  in  Eome,  for  diet, 
music,  and  attendance.'  ^  But,  in  spite  of  his  love  for 
music  and  the  occasional  splendour  of  the  services,  it 
would  seem  that  the  peculiar  innovations  of  the  Laud- 
ian  school  never  permanently  prevailed  in  the  Abbey. 
At  the  time  when  other  churches  were  blazing  with 
hundreds  of  wax  tapers  on  Candlemas  Day,  it  was 
observed  that  in  the  Abbey  there  were  none  even  in 
the  evening.*  His  enemies  at  last  succeeded  ^^^  Q^^^ 
in  procuring  his  fall  and  imprisonment,  and  mentT''' 
a  Commission  still  remains  on  the  Chapter  ^^  '"  • 
Books,  authorising  the  Chapter  to  carry  on  the  business 

1  Lilly's  Htstwy  of  his  Life  and  Times,  1602-1681,  pp.  32,  33.     Lon- 
don, 1715. 

2  Hacket,  pp.  91,  92.  ^  Fuller's  Church  History. 

*  Catalogue  of  superstitious  observances,  printed  for  Hinscott,  1642, 
p.  27. 

VOL.  II.  — 17 


258         THE  ABBEY  SINCE  THE   REFORMATION. 

in  his  absence.  Peter  Heylin,  Laud's  chaplain,  was 
now  supreme  as  treasurer  and  subdean.^  A  petition 
from  him  to  the  King  describes  the  difficulty  which  he 
experienced  in  keeping  up  the  ancient  custom  of  clos- 
ussherat  "^S  ^^^^  gatcs  at  10  P.M.^  The  Deanery  was 
the  Deanery,  niadc  ovcr  to  Usshcr.  A  letter  ^  to  him  from 
Laud  curiously  connects  the  past  history  of  Westmin- 
ster with  the  well-known  localities  of  the  present 
day:  — 

As  I  was  coming  from  the  Star-Chamber  this  day  se'nnight 
at  night,  there  came  to  me  a  gentlemanlike  man,  who,  it 
seems,  some  way  belongs  to  your  Grace.  He  came  to  in- 
form me  that  he  had  received  some  denial  of  the  kej'^s  of 
the  Dean  of  Westminster's  lodgings.  I  told  him  that  I  had 
moved  his  Majesty  that  you  might  have  the  use  of  these 
lodgings  tliis  winfcer-time,  and  that  his  Majesty  was  graciously 
pleased  that  you  should  have  them ;  and  that  I  had  ac- 
quainted Dr.  Newell,  the  Subdean  of  the  College,  with  so 
much,  and  did  not  find  liim  otherwise  than  willing  there- 
unto. But,  my  Lord,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  error  is  in  this  : 
the  gentleman,  or  somebody  else  to  your  use,  demanded  the 
keys  of  your  lodging,  if  I  misunderstood  him  not.  Now 
the  keys  cannot  *  be  delivered,  for  the  King's  scholars  must 
come  hither  daily  to  dinner  and  supper  in  the  Hall,  and  the 
butlers  and  other  officers  must  come  in  to  attend  them. 
And  to  this  end  there  is  a  porter,  by  office  and  oath,  that 
keeps  the  keys.  Besides,  the  Prebends  must  come  into  their 
Chapter  House,  and,  as  I  think,  during   the    Chapter-time 

1  He  repaired  the  West  and  South  Aisle  ;  and  '  new  vaulted  the 
curious  arch  over  the  preaching  place,  which  looketh  now  most  magni- 
ficently, and  the  roof  thereof  to  be  raised  to  the  same  height  as  the 
rest  of  the  Church.'     (Bernard's  Heylin,  p.  173.) 

2  State  Papers,  vol.  1837. 

3  Ussher's  Works,  xvi.  536,  537. 

*  This  implies  a  gate  between  the  Cloister  and  the  Deanery. 


DEAN   WILLIAMS.  259 

have  their  diet  in  the  Hall.  But  there  is  room  plentiful 
enough  for  your  Grace  besides  this.  I  advised  this  gentle- 
man to  speak  again  with  the  Subdean,  according  to  this 
direction,  and  more  I  could  not  possibly  do.  And  by  that 
time  these  letters  come  to  you,  I  presume  the  Subdean  will 
be  in  toAvn  again.  And  if  he  be,  I  will  speak  Avith  him, 
and  do  all  that  lies  in  me  to  accommodate  your  Grace. 
Since  this,  some  of  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln's  friends  whisper 
privately  that  he  hopes  to  be  in  Parliament,  and,  if  he  be, 
he  must  use  his  own  house.  And  whether  the  Subdean 
have  heard  anything  of  this  or  no,  I  cannot  tell.  IS'either 
do  I  myself  know  any  certainty,  but  yet  did  not  think  it  fit 
to  conceal  anything  that  I  hear  in  this  from  you. 

On  the   meeting  of   the  Long  Parliament  Williams 
was  released,  and  '  conducted  into  the  Abbey  Church, 
when  he  officiated,  it  being  a  day  of  humilia-  ^.jni,,,,,,., 
tion,  as  Dean  of  Westminster,  more  honoured  '«*""'• 
at  the  first  by  Lords  and  Commons  than  any  other  of 
his  order.' 

The  service  at  which  he  attended  was,  however, 
disturbed  by  the  revival  of  an  old  feud  between  him- 
self and  his  Prebendaries.  Each  had  long  laid  claim 
to  what  was  called  '  the  great  pew '  on  the  north  side 
of  the  Choir,  near  the  pulpit,  and  immediately  under 
the  portrait  of  Eichard  II.  ^  Williams  insisted,  by  a 
tradition  reaching  back  to  Dean  Goodman,  that  this 
pew  was  his  own  by  right,  and  by  him  granted  to 
noblemen  and  'great  ladies,'  whilst  the  Prebendaries 
were  to  sit  in  their  own  stalls,  or  with  the  Scholars. 
Here  he  sate  on  the  occasion  of  his  triumphant  return. 
It  so  chanced  that  his  old  enemy  Peter  Heylin,  in  the 

1  State  Papers,  1635.  See  Chapter  III.  p.  124.  It  seems  to  have 
heen  used  as  the  seat  of  the  Lord  Keepers  and  Chancellors  on  occasion 
of  their  coming  to  service  in  the  Abbey. 


260         THE   ABBEY   SINCE  THE  REFORMATION. 

newly  adorned  pulpit,  was  '  preaching  his  course, 
Peter  He  lin  ^^^  wheu,  at  a  Certain  point,  the  Eoyalist 
in  the  pulpit.  Prebendary  launched  out  into  his  usual  in- 
vectives against  the  Puritans,  the  Dean, '  sitting  in  the 
great  pew,'  and  inspired,  as  it  were,  by  that  old  battle- 
lield  of  contention,  knocked  aloud  with  his  staff  on  the 
adjacent  pulpit,  saying,  '  No  more  of  that  point  —  no 
more  of  that  point,  Peter.'  'To  which  the  Doctor 
readily  answered,  without  hesitation,  or  without  the 
least  sign  of  being  dashed  out  of  countenance,  I  have 
a  little  more  to  say,  my  Lord,  and  then  I  have  done.'^ 
He  then  continued  in  the  same  strain,  and  the  Dean 
afterwards  sent  for  the  sermon. 

The  tide  of  events  which  flowed  through  Westmin- 
ster Hall  in  the  next  year  constantly  discharged  itself 
into  the  Abbey.  The  Subcommittee,  composed  partly 
of  Episcopalians,  partly  of  Presbyterians,  to  report  on 
Conferences  the  ecclcsiastical  questions  of  the  day,  sate 
Jerusalem  uudcr  Williams's  presidency  in  his  beloved 
1640.  '  Jerusalem  Chamber,  now  for  the  first  time 
passing  into  its  third  phase,  that  of  the  scene  of  ec- 
clesiastical disputations.  There  they  'had  solemn 
debates  six  several  days,'  — '  always  entertained  at  his 
table  with  such  bountiful  cheer  as  well  became  a 
Bishop.  But  this  we  beheld  as  the  last  course  ^  of  all 
public  episcopal  treatments.'  Some  have  thought  the 
mutual  conferences  of  such  men  as  Sanderson  and 
Calamy,  Prideaux  and  Marshall,  '  might  have 
produced  much  good,'  in  spite  of  the  forebod- 
ings of  the  Court  Prelates.  But  what  the  issue  of 
this  conference  would  have  been  is  '  only  known  to 

1  Bernard's  Heylin,  193.     The  pulpit  was  moved  to  the  north  side, 
as  now,  in  the  last  century.     (Chapter  Book,  June  27,  1779.) 

2  Fuller's  Church  History,  1640. 


DEAN  WILLIAMS.  261 

Him  who  knew  what  the  men  of  Keilah  would  uo.' 
'  The  weaving  of  their  consultations  continued  till  the 
middle  of  May,  and  was  fairly  on  the  loom  when  the 
bringing  in  of  the  bill  against  Deans  and  Chapters  cut 
off  all  the  threads,  putting  such  a  distance  between 
the  aforesaid  divines,  that  never  their  judgments  and 
scarce  their  persons  met  after  together.'  jNleantime 
the  fury  of  the  London  populace  rose  to  such  a  pitch, 
that  Williams  —  who  meantime  had  just  received  from 
the  King  the  prize  so  long  coveted,  but  now  wiiuams's 

or  o  '  elevation  to 

too  late  for  enjoyment,  of  the  See  of  York  —  York,  Dec.  4. 
was  as  much  in  danger  from  the  Parliamentarian 
mob  as  he  had  been  a  year  before  from  Laud  and 
Strafford. 

Eyewitnesses  have  thus  informed  me  of  the  manner  thereof. 
Of  those  apprentices  who  coming  up  to  the  Parhament  cried, 
'  iS'o  bishops  !  I^o  bishops  ! '  some,  rudely  rushing 
into  the  Abbey  church,  were  reproved  by  a  verger  the  Abbey, 
for  their  irreverent  behaviour  therein.  Afterwards 
quitting  the  church,  the  doors  thereof,  by  command  from  the 
Dean,  were  shut  up,  to  secure  the  organs  and  monuments 
therein  against  the  return  of  the  apprentices.  For  though 
others  could  not  foretell  the  intentions  of  such  a  tumult,  who 
could  not  certainly  tell  their  own,  yet  the  suspicion  was 
probable,  by  what  was  uttered  amongst  them.  The  multi- 
tude presently  assault  the  church  (under  pretence  that  some 
of  their  party  were  detained  therein),  and  force  a  panel  out 
of  the  north  door,  but  are  beaten  back  by  the  officers  and 
scholars  of  the  College.  Here  an  unhappy  tile  was  cast  by 
an  unknown  hand,  from  the  leads  or  battlements  of  the 
church,  which  so  bruised  Sir  Eichard  Wiseman,  conductor  of 
the  apprentices,  that  he  died  thereof,  and  so  ended  that  day's 
distemper.^ 

1  Fuller's  Church  Histonj,  1641. 


262        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   EEEORMATION. 

All  the  Welsh  blood  m  Williams's  veins  was  roused, 
and,  as  afterwards  he  both  defended  and  attacked 
Conway  Castle,  so  now  he  maintained  the  Abbey  in 
his  own  person,  '  fearhig  lest  they  should  seize  upon 
the  Eegalia,  which  were  in  that  place  under  his 
custody.' 1  The  violence  of  the  mob  continued  to 
rage  so  fiercely,  that  the  passage  from  the  House  of 
Lords  to  the  Abbey  became  a  matter  of  danger.  Wil- 
liams was  with  difficulty  protected  home  by  some  of 
the  lay  lords,  as  he  returned  by  torch-light.^  He  was 
accompanied  by  Bishop  Hall,  who  lodged  in  Dean's 
Yard.  In  a  state  of  fury  at  these  insults,  he  once 
more  had  recourse  to  the  Jerusalem  Chamber.  Twelve 
of  the  Bishops,  with  Williams  at  their  head, 
Bishops  met  there  to  protest  against  their  violent  ex- 
saiemcham-  clusiou  from  the  Housc  of  Lords,  and  were  in 

l>er  Dec.  27. 

consequence  committed  to  the  Tower.  Wil- 
liams was  released  after  the  abolition  of  the  temporal 
jurisdiction  of  the  clergy.     The  Chapter  Book  contains 

only  two  signatures  of  Williams  as  Arch- 
seconTL^  bishop  of  York  —  one  immediately  before  his 
r)e'c?28!^" '  second  imprisonment,  December  21,  1641; 
release,  May  onc  immediately  after  his   release.   May  18, 

18   1642 

1642.  This  must  have  been  his  last  appear- 
ance, in  the  scene  of  so  many  interests  and  so  many 
conflicts,  in  Westminster.  He  left  the  capital  to  follow 
the  Kins  to  York,  and  never  returned.^ 

The  volume  in  which  these  signatures  are  recorded 
bears  witness  to  the  disorder  of  the  times.  A  few 
hurried  entries  on  torn  leaves  are  all  that  mark  those 


1  Hacket,  p.  176, 

2  Hall's  Hard  Measure.     (Worcjgworth's  Eccl.  Biog.  pp.  318,  324. 
8  Buried  at  Llandegay  Church,  1650. 


UNDER  THE   COMMONWEALTH.  263 

eventful  years,  followed  by  a  series  of  blank  pages, 
which  represent  the  mterregnum  of  the  Common- 
wealth. During  this  interregnum  the  Abbey  itself, 
as  we  have  seen,  not  only  retained  still  its  honour,  as 
the  burial-place  of  the  great,i  but  received  an  addi- 
tional impulse  in  that  direction,  which  since  that 
period  it  has  never  lost.  Many  a  Koyalist,  perhaps, 
felt  at  the  time  what  Waller  expressed  afterwards  — 

When  others  fell,  this,  standing,  did  presage 
The  Crown  should  triumph  over  popular  rage ; 
Hard  by  that  '  House  '  where  all  our  ills  were  shap'd, 
The  auspicious  Temple  stood,  and  yet  escap'd.^ 

But  the  religious  services  were  entirely  changed,  and 
whilst  the   monuments   and   the   fabrics  received  but 
little  injury,  the  furniture  and  ornaments  of  p^^.^^^ 
the  Church  suffered  materially.     A  Commit-  f^^ff^^^ 
tee  was  appointed,  of  which  Sir  Eobert  Harley  ^^^^■ 
was  the  head,  for  the  purpose  of  demolishing  '  monu- 
ments  of   superstition   and   idolatry,'   in    the    Abbey 
Church  of  Westminster,  and  in  the  windows  thereof. 
The  Altar,  which,  in  the  earlier  part  of  Williams's  rule, 
ha,d,   contrary  to  the  general  practice  since   the   Eef- 
ormation,  been  placed  at  the  east  end  of  the    Choir,^ 
w^as   brought   into   the  centre  of  the  Church,  for  the 
Communion  of  the  House  of  Commons.*     The  copes, 
which  had  been  worn  at  the  Coronations  by  the  Dean 
and  Prebendaries,  and  probably,  on  special  occasions, 
by  all  the  members  of  the  Choir,  were  sold  by  order  of 
Parliament,   and   the   produce    given   to   the  ^^^  ^^  ^^^^ 
poor  of  Ireland.     The  tapestries  representing 
the  history  of  Edward  the  Confessor  were  transferred 

1  See  Chapter  IV. 

2  Waller  on  St.  James's  Park.  '^  Bernard's  Hei/hn,  p.  171 
4  Nalson,  i.  563.     (Robertson  on  The  Liturgy,  p.  160.) 


264         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

to  the  Houses  of  Parliament.  The  plate  belonging  to 
the  College  was  melted  down,  to  pay  for  the  servants 
and  workmen,  or  to  buy  horses.^  The  brass  and  iron 
m  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel  was  ordered  to  be  sold,  and 
the  proceeds  thereof  to  be  employed  according  to  the 
directions  of  the  House  of  Commons.  But  this  ap- 
parently was  not  carried  out ;  as  the  brass  still  remains, 
and  the  iron  gratings  were  only  removed  within  this 
century. 

In  July  1643  took  place  the  only  actual  desecration 
to  which  the  Abbey  was  exposed.  It  was  believed  in 
Desecration  Eoyallst  circlcs  that  soldiers  ^  v^ere  quartered 
juiyms.^^'  in  the  Abbey,  who  burnt  the  altar-rails,  sate 
on  benches  round  the  Communion  Table,  eating,  drink- 
ing, smoking,  and  singing  —  destroyed  the  organ,  and 
pawned  the  pipes  for  ale  in  the  alehouses  —  played  at 
hare  and  hounds  in  the  Church,  the  hares  being  the 
soldiers  dressed  up  in  the  surplices  of  the  Choir  —  and 
turned  the  Chapels  and  High  Altar  to  the  commonest 
and  basest  uses.^  It  is  a  more  certain  fact  that  Sir 
Eobert  Harley,  who  under  his  commission  from  the 
Parliament  took  down  the  crosses  at  Charing  and  Cheap- 
side,  destroyed  the  only  monument  in  the  Abbey  which 
totally  perished  in  those  troubles  —  the  highly  deco- 
rated altar  which  served  as  the  memorial  of 
o^EZarr  Edward  VI.,^  and  which  doubtless  attracted 
inoriai"^      attention  from  Torregiano's  teria-cotta  statues. 

1  Widmore,  p.  156.     Commons'  Journals,  April  24,  28,  1643;  April 
24,  May  8,  1644. 

2  '  Some  soldier.s  of  Washborne  and  Cawood's  companies,  perhaps 
because  there  were  no  houses  in  Westminster.' 

3  Crull,  vol.  ii.  app.  ii.  p.  14;  Mercurius  Eiistlctts,  February  1643, 
p.  153. 

*  •  Paul's  and  Westminster  were  purged  of  their  images.'     (Neal's 
Puritans,  ii.  136.)     This  seems  to  have  been  the  only  instance.     See 


UNDER   THE   COMMONWEALTH.  265 

On  a  suspicion  that  Williams,  with  his  well-known  ac- 
tivity, had  carried  away  the  Eegalia,  the  doors  of  the 
Treasury,  which  down  to  that  time  had  been  insults 

•''  to  the 

kept  by  the  Chapter,  were  forced  open,^  that  Regaiia. 
an  inventory  of  what  was  to  be  found  there  might  be 
presented  to  the  House  of  Commons.  Henry  Marten 
(such  was  the  story)  had  been  entrusted  with  the  wel- 
come task ;  and  England  has  never  seen  a  ceremony  so 
nearly  approaching  to  the  Eevolutions  of  the  Continent, 
as  when  the  stern  enthusiast,  with  the  malicious  humour 
for  which  he  was  noted,  broke  open  the  huge  iron  chest 
in  the  ancient  Chapel  of  the  Treasury,  and  dragged  out 
the  crown,  sceptre,  sword,  and  robes,  consecrated  by  the 
use  of  six  hundred  years;  and  put  them  on  George 
Wither  the  poet, '  who,  being  thus  crowned  and  royally 
arrayed,  first  marched  about  the  room  with  a  stately 
garb,  and  afterwards,  with  a  thousand  apish  and  ridicu- 
lous actions,  exposed  those  sacred  ornaments  to  con- 
tempt and  laughter.'  ^  The  English  spirit  of  order  still, 
however,  so  far  presided  over  the  scene,  that,  after  this 
verification  of  their  safety,  they  were  replaced  in  the 
Treasury,  and  not  sold  till  some  time  afterwards. 

The  institution  itself  was  greatly  altered,  but  its  general 
stability  was  guaranteed.     A  special  ordinance,  in  1645, 
provided  for  the  government  of  the  Abbey,  in  default 
of  the  Dean  and  Chapter,  who  were  superseded.  ^^^^ 
The  School,  the  almsmen,  and  the  lesser  of- 
fices still  continued ;  and  over  it  were  placed  Commis- 

Chapter  III.  p.  208,  and  Mercurius  Rustims,  p.  154.  Fragments  proba- 
bly belonging  to  them  were  found  in  the  Western  Tower  in  1866, 
and  part  of  the  cornice  under  the  pavement  of  Edward  VI.'s  vault 
in  1869. 

1  See  Chapter  V.  p.  56. 

2  Wood's  Ath.  iii.  1239,  col.  1817;  Heylin,  Presbift.  452,  ed.  1672, 
but  not  in  ed.  1670.    (Mr.  Forster,  Statesmen,  v.  252,  doubts  the  story.) 


266         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

sioners  consisting  of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland  and 
„,    ^  other  laymen,  with  the  Master  of  Trinity,  the 

The  Com-         ^"  j  '  -J 

missioners.    j)gfin  of  Christ  Church,  and  the  Headmaster 
of  Westminster.^ 

Seven  Presbyterian  ministers  were  charged  with  the 
The  Pres-  duty  of  having  a  '  morning  exercise  '  in  place 
preao'heis.  of  the  daily  service,  and  the  Subdean,  before 
the  final  dissolution  of  the  Chapter,  was  ordered  to  per- 
mit them  the  use  of  the  pulpit.  These  were  —  Stephen 
Marshall,  chief  chaplain  of  the  Parliamentary  army,  and 
(if  we  may  use  the  expression)  Primate  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church ;  ^  William  Strong,^  who  became  the  head 
of  an  Independent  congregation  in  the  Abbey,  of  which 
Bradshaw  *  was  a  principal  member ;  Herle,  the  second 
Prolocutor  of  the  Westminster  Assembly  ;  Dr.  Stanton, 
afterwards  President  of  Corpus,  Oxford,  called  the 
'walking  Concordance;'  Philip  Nye,  who,  though  an 
uncompromising  Independent,  was  the  chief  agent  in 
bringing  the  Presbyterian  '  Covenant '  across  the  Bor- 
der; John  Bond,  a  son  of  Denis  Bond,  who  afterwards 

1  Stoughton's  Eccl.  Hist.  i.  488.  —  The  ordinance  vesting  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  Abbey  in  Commissioners  is  given  in  "Widmore,  p.  214. 

2  '  Without  doubt  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  had  never  so  great 
an  influence  upon  the  counsels  at  Court  as  Dr.  Burgess  or  Mr.  Mar- 
shall had  then  upon  the  Houses.'  (Clarendon.)  Both  Mar.shall  and 
Strong  were  buried  in  the  South  Transept,  and  disinterred  in  1661. 
(See  Chapter  IV.) 

3  Thirty-one  select  sermons  were  published  after  his  death,  'preached 
on  special  occasions  by  William  Strong,  that  godly,  able,  and  faithful 
minister  of  Christ,  lately  of  the  Abbey  of  Westminster.'  Of  these  the 
first  was  preached  on  Dec.  9,  16.50,  when  he  was  chosen  pastor  of  this 
Church,  on  Col.  ii.  5, '  Gospel  order  a  church's  beauty.'  He  was  also 
the  author  of  a  work  on  the  Two  Covenants,  dedicated  to  Lady  Eliza- 
beth Reid,  who  transcribed  it.    For  his  funeral,  see  Chapter  IV.  p.  139. 

*  This  congregation,  which  sometimes  also  met  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  was  continued  after  him  by  John  Rowe,  who  remained  there 
till  1661.  Dr.  Watts  as  a  student  belonged  to  it,  but  after  it  had  left 
the  Abbey.     {Christian  Witness,  1868,  p.  312.) 


THE   WESTMINSTER  ASSEMBLY.  267 

became  Master  ^  of  the  Savoy  Hospital,  and  of  Trinity 
Hall  at  Cambridge ;  and  Whitaker,  ]\Iaster  of  St.  Mary 
Magdalen,  Bermondsey.  At  one  of  these  '  morning  exer- 
cises '  was  present  a  young  Eoyalist  lady,  herself  after- 
wards buried  in  the  Abbey,  Dorothy  Osborne,  beloved 
first  by  Henry  Cromwell,  and  then  the  wife  of  Sir  Wil- 
liam Temple.  '  I  was  near  laughing  yesterday  when  I 
should  not.  Could  you  beheve  that  I  had  the  grace  to 
go  and  hear  a  sermon  upon  a  week  day  ?  It  is  true, 
and  j\Ir.  Marshall  was  the  preacher.  He  is  so  famed  that 
I  expected  vast  things  from  him,  and  seriously  I  listened 
to  him  at  first  with  as  much  reverence  and  attention  as 
if  he  had  been  S.  Paul.  But,  what  do  you  think  he  told 
us?  Why,  that  if  there  were  no  kings,  no  queens,  no 
lords,  no  ladies,  no  gentlemen  or  gentlewomen  in  the 
world,  it  would  be  no  loss  at  all  to  the  Almighty. 
This  he  said  over  forty  times,^  which  made  me  remem- 
ber it  whether  I  would  or  not' 

Besides  these  regular  lectures  there  were,  on  special 
occasions,  sermons  delivered  in  the  Abbey  by  yet  more 
remarkable  men.     Owen,  afterwards   Dean   of   Christ 
Church,   preached  on  the  day  after  Charles's  jan.  31. 
execution,  and  on '  God's  work  in  Zion '  (Isaiah  sept^ii, 
xiv.  32)  on  the  opening  of  Parliament  on  Sept.  ^^°^' 
17,   1656.     Goodwin,  President   of   Magdalen  College, 
Cambridge,   preached    in    like    manner    before   Oliver 
Cromwell's   First   Parliament,^  and   Howe,  on  'Man's 
duty  in  Glorifying  God,'  before  Eichard  Cromwell's  last 
Parliament.*     Here  too  was  heard  Baxter's  admirable 

1  In  the  original  scheme  (Commons'  Journals,  Feb.  28,  1643), 
Palmer,  Pastor  of  the  New  Church,  Westminster,  and  Hill,  afterwards 
Master  of  Emmanuel,  Cambridge,  are  mentioned. 

2  From  a  private  letter,  quoted  in  the  Christian  Witness  of  1868,  p. 
810. 

3  Carlyle's  Cromwell,  ii.  413.  *  ibid.  ii.  252,  234. 


268         THE   ABBEY  SINCE  THE  REFORMATION. 

discourse,  which  must  have  taken  more  than  two  hours 
to  deliver,  on  the  '  Vain  and  Formal  Eelision 

Sept.  4,1654.  '=> 

of  the  Hypocrite.' 

But  the  most  remarkable  ecclesiastical  act  that  oc- 
curred within  the  precincts  of  the  Abbey  during  this 
period  was  the  sitting  of  the  Westminster  Assembly. 
Its  proceedings  belong  to  general  history.  Here  is  only 
given  enough  to  connect  it  with  the  two  scenes  of  its 
operations. 

The  first  was  in  the  Church  itself.  There,  doubtless 
in  the  Choir  of  the  Abbey,  on  July  1,  1643,  the  Assem- 
Assembiy  bly  mct.  Tlicrc  were  the  121  divines,  includ- 
Juiy  1, 1643.  ing  four  actual  and  five  future  bishops.  Some 
few  only  of  these  attended,  and  '  seemed  the  only  Non- 
conformists for  their  conformity,  whose  gowns  and 
canonical  habits  differed  from  all  the  rest.'  The  rest 
were  Presbyterians,  with  a  sprinkling  of  Independents, 
'  dressed  in  their  black  cloaks,  skull-caps,  and  Geneva 
bands.  There  were  the  thirty  lay  assessors,^  to  overlook 
the  clergy  .  .  .  just  as  when  the  good  woman  puts  a 
cat  into  the  milkhouse  to  kill  a  mouse,  she  sends  her 
maid  to  look  after  the  cat  lest  the  cat  should  eat  up  the 
cream.' 2  Of  these  Selden  was  the  most  conspicuous, 
already  connected  with  Westminster  as  Registrar  of 
the  College,  an  office  which,  apparently,  had  been 
created  specially  for  him  by  Williams.^  Both  Houses  of 
Parliament  assisted  at  the  opening.  So  august  an  assem- 
bly had  not  been  in  the  Abbey  since  the  Conference 
which  ushered  in  the  re-establishment  of  the  Protestant 
Church  under  Elizabeth.  The  sermon  was  preached 
by  the  Prolocutor,  Dr.  Twiss,  on  the  text,  '  I  will  not 

'  The  list  is  given  in  Hetherington's  Westminster  Assembly,  p.  109. 
^  Seklen's  Table  Talk.  3  Hacket,  p.  69. 


THE  WESTMINSTER  ASSEMBLY.  269 

leave  you  comfortless.'  On  its  conclusion  the  divines 
ascended  the  steps  of  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel.  There  the 
roll  of  names  was  called  over.  Out  of  the  140  mem- 
bers, however,  only  69  were  present.^  On  the  6th  of 
July  they  assembled  again,  and  received  their  ,  „ 

In  Henry 

mstructions  from  the  House  of  Commons,  chapli  i643 
Then,  from  August  to  October,  they  discussed  '^''^^^■ 
the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  and  had  only  reached  the 
sixteenth  when  they  were  commanded  by  the  Parliament 
to  take  up  the  question  of  the  Discipline  and  Liturgy 
of  the  Church.  On  the  17th  of  August,  '  with  tears  of 
pity  and  joy,'  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  was 
brought  into  the  Tudor  Chapel.  On  the  1.5th  of  Sep- 
tember, with  a  short  expression  of  delight  from  Dr. 
Hoyle,  one  of  the  only  two  Irish  Commission-  ^^  g^ 
ers,  Ireland  was  incorporated  in  it.     On  the  ^["""^s^revs 

or    ^       p  Church, 

25th,  for  a  single  day  they  left  the  Abbey,  to  ^^^p^-  -^■ 
meet  the  Commons  in  St.  Margaret's  Church,  and  there 
sign  it.  On  the  15th  of  October,  with  a  sermon  from 
the  other  Irish  divine,^  Dr.  Temple  —  doubtless  in  the 
Abbey,  it  was  subscribed  by  the  Lords.  There  was  one  ^ 
spectator  outside,  who  has  left  on  record  his  protest 
against  the  Assembly,  in  terms  which,  whilst  they  apply 
to  all  attempts  at  local  ecclesiastical  authority,  show 
that  the  reminiscences  of  the  Abbey  touched  a  congenial 
chord  in  his  own  heart.  '  Neither  is  God  appointed  and 
confined,  where  and  out  of  what  place  His  chosen  shall 
be  first  heard  to  speak ;  for  He  sees  not  as  man  sees, 
chooses  not  as  man  chooses,  lest  we  should  devote  our- 

1  This  is  about  the  average  relative  attendance  of  the  Lower  House 
of  the  Convocation  of  Canterbury. 

2  Reid's  Preshyterianism  in  Ireland,  i.  407-409 ;    Stoughton's  Ecd 
Hist,  of  England,  i.  272,  294. 

8  Milton's  Areopagitica,  1644. 


270         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

selves  again  to  set  places  and  assemblies  and  outward 
callings  of  men,  planting  our  faith  one  while  in  the 
Convocation  House/  and  another  while  in  the  Chapel 
at  Westminster;  when  all  the  faith  and  religion  that 
shall  there  be  canonized  is  not  sufficient  without  plain 
convincement  and  the  charity  of  patient  instruction 
to  supple  the  least  bruise  of  conscience,  to  edify  the 
meanest  Christian  who  desires  to  walk  in  the  spirit  and 
not  in  the  letter  of  human  trust,  for  all  the  number  of 
voices  that  can  be  there  made,  no,  though  Harry  VII. 
himself  there,  with  all  his  liege  tombs  about  him,  should 
le7id  their  voices  from  the  dead  to  svjell  their  numher.' 
It  was  not  till  the  end  of  September  that  the  extreme 
cold  of  the  interior  of  the  Abbey  compelled  the  Divines 
to  shift  their  quarters  from  Henry  VIl.'s  Chapel  to  the 
Jerusalem  Chamber;  as  before,  so  now  it  was  the 
warm  hearth  that  drew  thither  alike  the  dying  ^  King 
and  the  grave  Assembly.  It  is  at  this  point  that  we 
first  have  a  full  picture  of  their  proceedings  from  one 
of  the  Scottish^  Commissioners  who  arrived  at  this 
juncture :  ^  — 

On  Monday  morning  we  sent  to  both  Houses  of  Parliament 
for  a  warrant  for  our  sitting  in  the  Assemblie.  This  was 
readilie  granted,  and  by  Mr,  Hendersone  presented  to  the 
Proloqutor,  who  sent  out  three  of  their  number  to  convoy  lis 
to  the  Assemblie.  Here  no  mortal  man  may  enter  to  see  or 
hear,  let  be  to  sitt,  without  ane  order  in  wryte  from  both 
Houses  of  Parliament.  When  we  were  brought  in,  Dr.  Twisse 
had  ane  long  harangue  for  our  welcome,  after  so  long  and 

^  See,  farther  on,  the  account  of  Convocation. 
2  See  Chapter  V.  p.  48. 

8  One  Irish  divine  only  was  present,  Dr.  Hoyle,  Professor  of  Divin- 
ity from  Dublin.     (Reid's  Preshyterianism  in  Ireland,  i.  405.) 
*  Letters  and  Journals  of  Robert  Baillie,  vol.  ii.  pp.  107-109. 


THE   WESTMINSTER  ASSEMBLY.  271 

hazardous  a  voyage  by  sea  and  laud,  in  so  unseasonable  a 
tyme  of  the  year.  When  he  had  ended,  we  satt  down  in 
these  places,  which  since  we  have  keeped.  The  like  of  that 
Assemblie  I  did  never  see,  and,  as  we  hear  say,  the  like  was 
never  in  England,  nor  anywhere  is  shortlie  lyke  to  be. 
They  did  sitt  in  Henry  VII. 's  Chappell,  in  the  place  of  the 
Convocation ;  ^  but  since  the  weather  grew  cold,  Removal 
they  did  go  to  Jerusalem  Chamber,^  a  fair  roome  jerusliiem 
in  the  Abbey  of  Westminster,  about  the  bounds  of  ^''^amber. 
the  CoUedge  forehall,*  but  wyder.  At  the  one  end  nearest 
the  doore,  and  both  sydes,  are  stages  of  seats,  as  in  the  new 
Assemblie-House  at  Edinburgh,  but  not  so  high ;  for  there 
will  be  roome  but  for  five  or  six  score.  At  the  upmost  end 
there  is  a  chair  set  on  ane  frame,  a  foot  from  the  earth,  for 
the  Mr.  Proloqutor,  Dr.  Twisse.  Before  it  on  the  ground 
stands  two  chairs,  for  the  two  Mr.  Assessors,  Dr.  Burgess  and 
Mr.  Whyte.  Before  these  two  chairs,  through  the  length  of 
the  roome,  stands  a  table,  at  which  sitts  the  two  scribes,  Mr. 
Byfield  and  Mr.  Roborough.  The  house  is  all  well  hung,* 
and  has  a  good   fyre,   which  is  some  dainties  at  London. 

1  For  the  Convocation,  see  p.  195. 

2  Fuller  (Church  History,  iii.  449)  says:  'And  what  place  more 
proper  for  the  building  of  Sion  (as  they  propounded  it)  than  the  Cham- 
ber of  Jerusalem  (the  fairest  in  the  Dean's  lodgings,  where  King  Henry 
IV.  died),  where  these  divines  did  daily  meet  together  ?  ' 

8  Probably  not  the  Forehall  of  Glasgow  (destroyed  in  1867),  which 
was  much  larger,  but  another  forehall  of  the  college  (destroye'd  in 
1662).  See  Professor  Mitchell's  Minutes  of  the  Westminster  Assembly, 
p.  Ixxix. 

4  The  tapestry  with  which  the  chamber  is  now  hung,  and  which, 
though  different,  represents  its  appearance  at  the  time  of  the  Assembly, 
consists  of  five  pieces  :  1.  A  fragment,  apparently  representing  Goliath 
challenging  the  Israelites.  2.  The  circumcision  of  Isaac.  (These  two 
were  hung  in  the  Abbey  at  the  coronation  of  James  II.  See  Chapter 
II.)  3.  (Probably  of  the  same  period.)  The  adoration  of  the  Wise 
Men.  The  two  latest  additions  were  the  gift  of  Lord  John  Thynne 
from  his  residence  at  Haynes,  consisting  of  (4.)  The  interview  of 
Eliezer  and  Rebekah.  (5.)  Peter  and  John  at  the  Beautiful  Gate  of 
the  Temple. 


272         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

Foranent  the  table,  upon  the  Proloqiitor's  right  hand,  there 
are  three  or  four  rankes  or  formes.  On  the  lowest  we  five  doe 
sit ;  upon  the  other,  at  our  backs,  the  members  of  Parliament 
deputed  to  the  Assemblie.^  On  the  formes  foranent  us,  on 
the  Proloqutor's  left  hand,  going  from  the  upper  end  of  the 
house  to  the  chimney,  and  at  the  other  end  of  the  house  and 
backsyde  of  the  table,  till  it  come  about  to  our  seats,  are  four 
or  five  stages  of  formes,  whereupon  their  divines  sitts  as  they 
please;  albeit  coramonlie  they  keep  the  same  place.  From 
the  chimney  to  the  door  there  is  no  seats,  but  a  voyd,  about 
the  fire.  We  meet  every  day  of  the  week,  but  Saturday. 
We  sitt  commonlie  from  nine  to  one  or  two  afternoon.  The 
Pi'oloqutor  at  the  beginning  and  end  has  a  short  prayer. 
The  man,  as  the  world  knows,  is  very  learned  in  the  ques- 
tions he  has  studied,  and  very  good,  beloved  of  all,  and 
highlie  esteemed;  but  merelie  bookish,  and  not  much,  as  it 
seems,  acquaint  with  conceived  prayer  [and]  among  the  unfit- 
test  of  all  the  company  for  any  action ;  so  after  the  prayer, 
he  sitts  mute.  It  was  the  cannie  convoyance  of  these  who 
guides  most  matters  for  their  own  interest  to  plant  such  a 
man  of  purpose  in  the  chaire.  The  one  assessour,  our  good 
friend  Mr.  Whyte,  has  keeped  in  of  the  gout  since  our  com- 
ing ;  the  other.  Dr.  Burgess,  a  very  active  and  sharpe  man, 
supplies,  so  farr  as  is  decent,  the  Proloqutor's  place.  Ordina- 
rilie,  there  will  be  present  about  three-score  of  their  divines. 
These  are  divided  in  three  committees,  in  one  whereof  every 
man  is  a  member.  No  man  is  excluded  who  pleases  to  come 
to  any  of  the  three.  Every  committee,  as  the  Parliament 
gives  orders  in  wryte  to  take  any  purpose  to  consideration, 
takes  a  portion ;  and  in  their  afternoon  meeting  prepares  mat- 
ters for  the  Assemblie,  setts  doune  their  rainde  in  distinct 

1  '  The  Prince  Palatine,  constantly  present  at  the  debates,  heard  the 
Erastians  with  much  delight,  as  welcoming  their  opinions  for  country's 
sake  (his  natives,  as  first  born  in  Heidelberg),  though  otherwise  in  his 
own  judgment  no  favourer  thereof.  But  other  Parliament-men  lis- 
tened very  favourably  to  their  arguments,'  etc.     (Fuller,  iii.  468.) 


NAVE  or  ABBer 


MONKS         REFCCTORV 


1.  Prolocutor. 

2.  The  two  Assessors. 

3.  The  two  Scribes. 

4.  The  Scottish  Divines. 


5.  TheM.P.'s. 

6.  The  English  Divines. 

7.  The  Fireplace. 

8.  The  Table. 


PLAN  OF  THE  MODERN  DEANERY,  INCLUDING  THE  '  ABBOT's  PLACE,' 
AND  REPRESENTING  THE  JERUSALEM  CHAMBER  AT  THE  TIME  OF 
THE  WESTMINSTER  ASSEMBLY. 


VOL.  II.  — 18 


274         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

propositions,  backs  their  propositions  with  texts  of  Scripture. 
After  the  prayer,  Mr.  Byfield,  the  scribe,  reads  the  proposition 
and  Scriptures,  whereupon  the  Assemblie  debates  in  a  most 
grave  and  orderHe  way.  No  man  is  called  up  to  speak  ;  but 
who  stands  up  of  his  own  accord,  he  speaks  so  long  as  he 
will  without  interruption.  If  two  or  three  stand  up  at  once,  . 
then  the  divines  confusedlie  calls  on  his  name  whom  they 
desyre  to  hear  first.  On  whom  the  loudest  and  maniest 
voices  calls,  he  speaks.  No  man  speaks  to  any  bot  to  the 
Proloqutor.  They  harangue  long  and  very  learnedlie.  They 
studio  the  questions  well  beforehand,  and  prepares  their 
speeches;  but  withall  the  men  are  exceeding  prompt  and 
well  spoken.  I  doe  marvell  at  the  very  accurate  and  extem- 
porall  replyes  that  many  of  them  usuallie  doe  make.  When, 
upon  everie  proposition  by  itself,  and  on  everie  text  of 
Scripture  that  is  brought  to  confirme  it,  every  man  who  will 
has  said  his  whole  minde,  and  the  replyes,  and  duplies,  and 
triplies  are  heard  ;  then  the  most  part  calls,  '  To  the  ques- 
tion.' Byfield  the  scribe  rises  from  the  table,  and  comes  to 
the  Proloqutor's  chair,  who,  from  the  scribe's  book,  reads  the 
proposition,  and  says,  'As  many  as  are  in  opinion  that  the 
question  is  well  stated  in  the  proposition,  let  them  say  I;' 
when  I  is  heard,  he  says,  '  As  many  as  think  otherwise,  say 
No.'  If  the  difference  of  I's  and  No's  be  cleare,  as  usuallie 
it  is,  then  the  question  is  ordered  by  the  scribes,  and  they 
go  on  to  debate  the  first  Scripture  alleadged  for  proof  of  tlie 
proposition.  If  the  sound  of  I  and  No  be  near  equall,  then 
sayes  the  Proloqutor,  '  As  many  as  say  I,  stand  up  ;  '  while 
they  stand,  the  scribe  and  others  number  them  in  their 
minde  ;  when  they  sitt  downe,  the  No's  are  bidden  stand,  and 
they  likewise  are  numbered.  This  way  is  clear  enough,  and 
saves  a  great  deal  of  time,  which  we  spend  in  reading  our 
catalogue.  When  a  question  is  once  ordered,  there  is  no 
more  debate  of  that  matter ;  but  if  a  man  will  raige,  he  is 
quicklie  taken  up  by  Mr.  Assessor,  or  many  others,  con- 
fusedlie crying,  'Speak  to  order  — to  order!'     No  man  con- 


THE   WESTMINSTER   SCHOOL.  275 

tradicts  another  expresslie  by  name,  Lot  most  disereetlie 
speaks  to  the  Proloqutor,  and  at  most  liolds  on  the  generall, 
'The  Eeverend  brother  who  latelie  or  last  spoke,'  'on  this 
hand/  'on  that  syde,'  'above,'  or  'below.'  I  thought  meet 
once  for  all  to  give  you  a  taste  of  the  outward  form  of  their 
Assemblie.  They  follow  the  way  of  their  Parliament.  Much 
of  their  way  is  good,  and  worthie  of  our  imitation  :  only  their 
longsomenesse  is  wofull  at  this  time,  when  their  Church  and 
Kingdome  lyes  under  a  most  lamentable  anarchy  and  confusion. 
They  see  the  hurt  of  their  length,  but  cannot  get  it  helped ; 
for  being  to  establish  a  new  plattforme  of  worship  and  disci- 
pline to  their  jS'ation  for  all  time  to  come,  they  think  they 
cannot  be  answerable  if  solidlie,  and  at  leisure,  they  doe  not 
examine  every  point  thereof. 

Here  took  place  those  eager  disputes  between  Selden 
and  Gillespie.^  Here  Selden  would  tell  his  adversaries, 
'Perhaps  in  your  little  pocket-bibles  with  gilt  leaves 
(which  they  would  often  take  out  and  read)  the  trans- 
lation may  be  thus,  but  the  Greek  and  Hebrew  signifies 
thus  and  thus,'  and  so  would  silence  them.  He  came, 
'as  Persians  used,  to  see  wild  asses  fight.'  'When  the 
Commons  tried  him  with  their  new  law,  these  brethren 
refreshed  him  with  their  new  Gospel.' ^  Here  Herle, 
rector  of  Winwick,  delivered  his  philippics  against  the 
Bishops,  after  one  of  which  he  exultingly  said  to  an  ac- 
quaintance, I  '11  tell  you  news.  Last  night  T  buried  a 
Bishop  in  Westminster  Abbey.'  '  Sure,'  was  the  shrewd 
reply,  '  you  buried  him  in  the  hope  of  resurrection.'  ^ 
For  five  years,  six  months,  and  twenty-two  days,  through 

1  Lightfoot,  i.  68  ;  Hetherington,  p.  252. 

2  Hetherington,  p.  .326. 

3  Life  of  a  Lancashire  Rector  (Manchester  Field  Naturalists'  and 
Archteologists'  Society,  1878-79,  p.  80-86).  A  relative,  apparently 
a  daughter,  Margaret  Herle,  was  buried  in  the  Cloisters,  1646-47 
(Register). 


276         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

one  tliousand  one  hundred  and  sixty-three  sessions,  the 
Chapel  of  Henry  VII.  and  the  Jerusalem  Chamber 
witnessed  their  weary  labours.  Out  of  these  walls  came 
the  Directory,  the  Longer  and  Shorter  Catechism,  and 
that  famous  Confession  of  faith  which,  alone  within 
these  Islands,  was  imposed  by  law  on  the  whole  king- 
dom ;  and  which,  alone  of  all  Protestant  Confessions, 
still,  in  spite  of  its  sternness  and  narrowness,  retains  a 
hold  on  the  minds  of  its  adherents,  to  which  its  fervour 
and  its  logical  coherence  in  some  measure  entitle  it. 
If  ever  our  Northern  brethren  are  constrained  by  a 
higher  duty  to  break  its  stringent  obligation,  they  may 
perhaps  find  a  consolation  in  the  fact,  that  the  '  West- 
minster Confession '  bears  in  its  very  name  the  sign 
that  it  came  to  them  not  from  the  High  Church  or 
Hall  of  Assembly  in  Edinburgh,  but  from  the  apartments 
of  a  prelatical  dignitary  at  Westminster,  under  the 
sanction  of  an  English  Parliament,  and  under  the  occa- 
sional pressure  of  the  armies  of  an  English  king. 

Whilst  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  was  thus  employed, 
the  Deanery  itself  was  inhabited  by  a  yet  more  singular 
occupant.  The  office  had,  on  Williams's  retirement,  been 
Bichard  giveu  by  the  King  to  Dr.  Eichard  Stewart ; 
1645-51.'  but  he  never  took  possession,  and  died  in  exile 
at  Paris,  where  he  was  buried  in  a  Protestant  cemetery 
John  near  St.  Germain  des  Pr^s.     The  house,  mean- 

1649-59.  '  time,  had  been  granted  ^  on  lease  to  Bradshaw, 
President  of  the  High  Court  of  Justice.  He  belonged 
to  a  small  Independent  congregation,  gathered  in  the 
Abbey  under  the  ministry,  first  of  Strong,  and  then  of 

1  It  was  ordered  ou  the  25tli  of  January,  i.  e.  five  days  before  the 
King's  death,  '  that  the  dean's  house  in  Westminster  Abbey  be  pro- 
vided and  furnished  for  the  lodging  of  the  Lord  President  and  his  ser- 
vants, guards,  and  attendants.' — State  Trials,  iv.  1100. 


THE   WESTMINSTER   SCHOOL.  277 

Rowe.  Here,  according  to  tradition,  he  loved  to  climb 
by  the  winding  stair  from  the  Deanery  into  'some 
small  chamber'  in  the  South-western  Tower.  It  is, 
doubtless,  that  which  still  exists,  with  traces  of  its 
ancient  fireplace,  but  long  since  inhabited  only  by 
hawks  ^  or  pigeons.  A  round  piece  of  timber  was  long 
shown  here  as  Bradshaw's  rack ;  and  the  adjacent  gal- 
lery was  haunted,^  as  the  Westminster  boys  used  to  be- 
lieve, by  his  ghost.  '  This  melancholy  wretch,'  so  writes 
the  royalist  antiquarian,  '  it  is  said,  ended  his  days  in 
the  blackest  desperation ;  but  that  a  church-roof  was 
the  nest  of  such  an  unclean  bird,  I  have  not  before  heard. 
Certain  it  is  that  he  ended  his  days  near  this  church, 
but  that  he  spent  them  in  it  we  have  no  authority  but 
tradition.  Yet  it  is  not  improbable  that,  in  some  of  his 
fits,  he  might  retire  to  a  place  very  well  suited  to  such 
a  temper.'  ^  The  more  authentic  accounts  of  his  death 
do  not  exhibit  any  such  remorse.  '  Not  on  the  tribunal 
only,'  said  Milton,  in  his  splendid  eulogy  on  his  character, 
'  but  through  his  whole  life,  he  seemed  to  be  sitting  in 
judgment  on  Royalty.'  '  Had  it  to  be  done  over  again,' 
were  amongst  his  last  w^ords,  speaking  of  the  King's 

1  '  Peregrine  falcons  take  up  their  abode  from  October  or  November 
until  the  spring  upon  Westminster  Abbey  and  other  churches  in  the 
metropolis  :  this  is  well  known  to  the  London  pigeon  fanciers,  from 
the  great  havoc  they  make  in  their  flights.'  {Sir  John  Sebright  on 
Hawking,  1826.) 

2  A  distinguished  old  Westminster  scholar  (the  late  Lord  de  Ros), 
who  for  a  wager  passed  a  night  in  the  Abbey  to  confront  the  ghost, 
long  retained  a  lively  recollection  of  the  unearthly  sounds  of  birds  and 
rats  through  his  cold  dark  imprisonment.  The  '  rack,'  or  rather '  wheel,' 
was  merely  a  part  of  Wren's  machinery  for  building  the  South-western 
Tower,  and  remained  there  till  1867.  Tiles  of  skeletons  of  pigeons 
killed  by  the  hawks  were  found  there,  as  well  as  fragments  of  ordinary 
meals.  A  recess  called  Cromwell's  seat,  probably  from  some  confusion 
with  Bradshaw,  exists  in  the  vaults  beneath  the  College  Hall. 

3  Dart,  i.  65. 


278         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   EEFORMATION. 

execution,  'I  would  do  it.'  He  was  present  at  the 
Council  of  State  in  1659.  When  the  proceedings  of  the 
army  were  discussed  and  justified,  and,  '  though  by  long 
sickness  very  weak  and  much  exhausted,  yet,  animated 
by  his  ardent  zeal  and  constant  affection  to  the  connnou 
cause,  he  stood  up  and  interrupted  Colonel  Sydenham, 
declaring  his  abhorrence  of  that  detestable  action,  and 
telling  the  Council  that,  being  now  going  to  his  God,  he 
had  not  patience  to  sit  there  to  hear  His  great  name  so 
openly  blasphemed,  and  thereupon  departed  to  his  lodg- 
ings,'and  withdrew  himself  from  public  employment.' 
In  those  lodgings  at  the  Deanery  he  died,i  and  was,  as 
we  have  seen,  buried  with  his  wife  in  the  course  of  the 
same  year  in  Henry  VII. 's  Chapel,  to  be  disinterred  in  a 
few  months  by  the  Eoyalists. 

The  Prebendaries'  houses  were  given  to  the  seven 
preachers,  and  all  members  of  the  Capitular  and  Col- 
legiate body  who  had  not  taken  the  Covenant  were  re- 
csbaidiston,  movcd.  T  WO  alouc  remained.  One  was  Lambert 
Sd'oct.  Osbaldiston,  who  had  been  for  sixteen  years 
8,1659.  Headmaster,  and  suffered  alternately  from 
Laud  2  and  from  the  Puritans.  But  he  was  spared  in  the 
general  expulsion  of  the  Prebendaries  by  the  Long 
Parliament,  and,  probably  through  his  influence,  the 
School  was  spared  also.  In  the  School  his  successor 
Busby,  was  the  celebrated  Busby,  a  man  not  commonly 
1638-95.  suspected  of  too  much  compliance,  but  who, 
nevertheless,  kept  his  seat  unshaken  during  the  conten- 
tions of  Williams  and  Laud  within  the  Chapter,  through 

1  Ludlow,  317.     See  Chapter  IV. 

2  He  had  narrowly  escaped  standing  in  the  pillory  in  Dean's  Yard, 
before  his  own  door,  for  calling  Land  '  Hocus  Pocus  '  and  the  '  Little 
Vermin.'  He  was  buried  in  the  South  Aisle  of  the  Abbey,  October  3, 
1659.     (See  Alumni  Westmonast.,  p.  82.) 


THE   WESTMINSTER   SCHOOL.  279 

the  fall  of  the  monarchy  and  the  ruin  of  the  Church, 
both  whilst  the  Abbey  was  at  its  highest  Hight  of 
Episcopal  ritual,  and  whilst  it  was  occupied  by  Presby- 
terian preachers,  through  the  Eestoration,  and  through 
the  Eevolution,  into  the  reign  of  William  III. ;  thus 
having  served  three  dynasties  and  witnessed  three 
changes  of  worship.  Dr.  Busby's  history  belongs  to 
that  of  the  School  rather  than  of  the  Abbey ;  but  some 
of  the  most  striking  incidents  of  his  reign  are  closely 
connected  with  the  localities  of  Westminster,  and  with 
the  passions  ^  which  were  heaving  round  the  Cloisters 
through  this  eventful  period.  One  of  these  is  recalled 
by  the  bar  which  extends  across  the  Great  School.  It 
is  the  famous  bar  over  wliich  on  Shrove-Tuesday  it  is 
the  duty  of  the  College  cook  to  throw  a  pancake,  to  be 
scrambled  for  by  the  boys  and  presented  to  the  Dean.^ 
On  this  bar  — 

Every  one  who  is  acquainted  with  Westminster  School 
knows  that  there  is  a  curtain  ^  which  used  to  be  drawn  across 

1  For  the  long  quarrel  between  Busby  and  Bagshawe,  see  Narrative 
of  the  Difference  between  Mr.  Busby  and  Mr.  Bagshawe  (1659);  also 
Alumni  Westmonast.,  p.  125. 

2  For  many  3'ears  it  was  torn  to  pieces  in  the  scuffle.  But  a  tradi- 
tion existing  that  if  any  one  carried  it  whole  to  the  Dean,  he  would 
receive  a  guinea,  the  boys  at  last  agreed  that  a  certain  champion  should 
be  allowed  to  secure  it  as  if  in  fair  fight,  and  from  that  time  the  pan- 
cake, when  presented,  has  received  its  proper  reward.  In  later  days 
the  failures  of  an  unsuccessful  cook,  year  after  year,  had  nearly  broken 
the  custom;  till,  in  1864,  an  ancient  war-cry  was  revived,  and  a  shower 
of  books  was  discharged  at  the  head  of  the  offending  minister  ;  he,  in 
return,  hurled  the  fryingpan  into  the  midst,  which  cut  open  the  head 
of  one  of  the  scholars,  Avho  was  then  allowed  by  the  Dean  to  carry  off 
the  pan  in  triumph.  The  whole  incident  was  commemorated  in  a 
humorous  Homeric  poem,  entitled  Mageiropcedomachia ,  since  published 
in  Lusits  Westmonast erienses,  ii.  p.  304;  see  ibid.  201.  In  the  Gent. 
Mag.  1790  the  'cook'  is  called  the  'under  clerk.'  Brand  (i.  83)  meu- 
tions  the  custom  as  having  once  existed  at  Eton. 

3  '  Dr.  Busby  admitted  me  above  the  curtain.'     (Taswell,  p.  9.J 


280         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

the  room,  to  separate  the  upper  school  from  the  lower.  A 
youth  happened,  by  some  mischance,  to  tear  the 
and  Wake.  \}^q  above-mentioned  curtain.  The  severity  of  the 
Master  [Busby]  was  too  well  known  for  the  criminal  to 
expect  any  pardon  for  such  a  fault ;  so  that  the  boy,  who  was 
of  a  meek  temper,  was  terrified  to  death  at  the  thoughts  of  his 
appearance,  when  his  friend  who  sate  next  to  him  bade  him 
be  of  good  cheer,  for  that  he  would  take  the  fault  on  himself. 
He  kept  his  word  accordingly.  As  soon  as  they  were  grown 
up  to  be  men,  the  Civil  War  broke  out,  in  which  our  two 
friends  took  the  opposite  sides;  one  of  them  followed  the 
Parliament,  the  other  the  Royal  party. 

As  their  tempers  were  different,  the  youth  who  had  torn 
the  curtain  endeavoured  to  raise  himself  on  the  civil  list,  and 
the  other,  who  had  borne  the  blame  of  it,  on  the  military. 
The  first  succeeded  so  well  that  he  was  in  a  short  lime  made 
a  judge  under  the  Protector.  The  other  was  engaged  in  the 
unhappy  enterprise  of  Penruddock  and  Groves  in  the  West. 
Every  one  knows  that  the  Royal  party  was  routed,  and  all  the 
heads  of  them,  among  whom  was  the  curtain  champion,  im- 
prisoned at  Exeter.  It  happened  to  be  his  friend's  lot  at  the 
time  to  go  the  Western  Circuit.  The  trial  of  the  rebels,  as 
they  were  then  called,  was  very  short,  and  nothing  now  re- 
mained but  to  pass  sentence  on  them ;  when  the  judge,  hear- 
ing the  name  of  his  old  friend,  and  observing  his  face  more 
attentively,  which  he  had  not  seen  for  many  years,  asked  him 
if  he  was  not  formerly  a  Westminster  scholar.  By  the  an- 
swer, he  was  soon  convinced  that  it  was  his  former  generous 
friend ;  and,  without  saying  anything  more  at  that  time,  made 
the  best  of  his  way  to  London,  where,  employing  all  his  power 
and  interest  with  the  Protector,  he  saved  his  friend  from  the 
fate  of  his  unhappy  associates.-' 

1  Spectator,  No.  cccxiii.,  by  Eustace  Budgell,  a  Westminster  scholar. 
See  Alumni  Wcstmonast.,  p.  .568.  The  Royalist  was  Colonel  William 
Wake,  father  of  Archbishop  Wake  ;  the  Parliamentarian  was  John 
Glynne,  Serjeant  and  Peer  under  Cromwell,  ancestor  of  the  Glynnes  of 


THE  WESTMINSTER  SCHOOL.  281 

Two  incidents  illustrate  the  general  loyalty  of  the 
School,  well  known  through  the  remark  of  the  Puritan 
Dean  of  Christ  Church,  John  Owen,  who  him-  Loyalty  of 
self  preached  (on  Jer.  xv.  19,  20)  in  the  Ahbey 
the  day  after  the  execution :  '  It  will  never  be  well 
with  the  nation  till  Westminster  School  is  suppressed.' 
One  occurred  at  the  funeral  of  the  Protector. 

.  Uvedale  at 

'  Eobert  Uvedale,  one  of  the  scholars,  in  his  boy-  cromweii's 

funeral. 

ish  indignation  against  the  usurper,  snatched 

one  of  the  escutcheons  from  the  hearse,'  ^     The  other 

is  recorded  by  the  famous  Eobert  South,  who 

V.       1      >  11  IT  11-        South,  on 

was  amongst  Busby  s  scholars,  and  lies  by  his  Jauumyso, 
side 2  in  the  Chancel  'I  see  great  talents  in 
that  sulky  boy,'  said  Busby,  '  and  I  shall  endeavour  to 
bring  them  out.'  '  On  that  very  day'  (says  South,  in 
one  of  his  sermons  ^), '  that  black  and  eternally  infamous 
day  of  the  King's  murder,  I  myself  heard,  and  am  now 
a  witness,  that  the  King  was  publicly  prayed  for  in 
this  school  but  an  hour  or  two  at  most  before  his  sacred 
head  was  struck  off.'*  'The  school,'  says  the  old 
preacher,  rousing  himself  with  the  recollection  of  those 
stirring  days  of  his  boyhood,  '  made  good  its  claim  to 
that   glorious   motto   of    its   royal    foundress,   Semper 

Hawarden.  He  is  buried  in  St.  Margaret's  Church  {Alumni  West.  p. 
569),  and  his  granduiece  (1732-33)  Ellen  in  Monk's  vault  in  Henry 
VII.'s  Chapel.     (Register.) 

1   Gent.  Mag.  Ixii.  pt.  1,  p.  114.  2  gee  Chapter  IV.  p.  142. 

3  South's  Sermon  on  Virtuous  Education,  1685.  The  version  usu- 
allv  given  [Alumni  West.  p.  136)  is  that  South  himself  read  the  prayers. 
But  this  contradicts  his  own  testimony,  and,  moreover,  he  was  not 
'senior'  till  1650-51. 

*  On  that  .same  day  Phineas  Payne,  of  the  Mermaid,  near  the  Mews, 
one  of  the  doorkeepers  of  Westminster  Hall,  dined  '  at  Westminster 
College'  (probably  in  the  Hall).  Colonel  Humphreys  'came  in  and 
said  the  work  was  done.'  According  to  others,  Payne  boasted  that '  hisi 
hands  had  done  the  work.'     (State  Papers,  1660.) 


282         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMxVTION. 

Eadcm  ;  the  temper  and  genius  of  it  being  neither  to  be 
tempted  with  promises  nor  controlled  with  threats.  .  .  . 
And,  as  Alexander  the  Great  admonished  one  of  his 
soldiers  of  the  same  name  with  himself  still  to  remem- 
ber that  his  name  was  Alexander,  and  to  behave  him- 
self accordingly,  so,  I  hope,  our  School  has  all  along 
behaved  itself  suitably  to  the  royal  name  and  title  it 
bears.  .  .  .  We  really  were  King's  scholars,  as  well  as 
called  so.  It  is  called  "  the  King's  School,"  and  there- 
fore  let  nothing  arbitrary  or  tyrannical  be  practised  in  it, 
whatever  has  been  practised  against  it.  .  .  .  It  is  the 
King's  ^  School,  and  therefore  let  nothing  but  what  is 
loyal  come  out  of  it  or  be  found  in  it.' 

This  fervour  of  loyalty  was  the  more  remarkable 
when  we  remember  that  not  only  were  the  Governors 
Parliamentarians,  but  that  the  ministrations  of  the 
Abbey  itself,  which  the  boys  frequented,  were  Presby- 
terian or  Independent.  '  I  myself '  ■ —  it  is  South  again 
who  speaks  in  his  old  age  —  *  while  a  scholar  here,  have 
heard  a  prime  preacher'  (William  Strong)  '  thus  address- 
ing himself  from  this  very  pulpit,  to  the  leading  gran- 
dees of  the  faction  in  the  pew  under  it'  (doubtless 
sitting  in  the  Chancellor's  pew,  so  long  contested  be- 
tween Williams  and  the  Chapter) :  ' "  You  stood  up," 
says  he,  "  for  your  liberties,  and  you  did  well." '  The 
two  are  brought  face  to  face  in  the  touching  relation 
between  the  Royalist  Pedagogue  and  his  Nonconformist 
Philip  pupil,  Philip  Henry,  as  they  sit  together  in 

^°'^^"         the  well-known  picture  in  the  Hall  of  Christ 
Church  —  the  one  boy  whom  he  never  chastised,  but 

1  The  use  of  this  word  seems  to  imply  that,  as  at  Canterhnry,  the 
collegiate  school  was  here  known  popularly  as  '  tlie  King's  School.'  It 
is  employed  in  the  dedication  of  an  edition  of  the  Septuagint  iu  1653 
to  the  Inclyta  Schola  Regia,  which  also  bears  the  Royal  Arms. 


THE   WESTMINSTER   SCHOOL.  283 

once  with  the  words,  '  And  thou,  my  child  ; '  whose  ab- 
sence from  school  he  allowed,  in  order  that  the  young 
Puritan  might  attend  the  daily  lecture  in  the  Abbey, 
between  6  and  8  a.m.,^  and  whom  he  prepared  for  the 
Presbyterian  celebration  of  the  Sacrament  with  a  care 
that  the  boy  never  forgot.  'The  Lord  recompense  it 
a  thousand-fold  into  his  bosom  ! '  '  What  a  mercy,'  was 
Henry's  reflection  many  years  after,  'that  at  a  time 
when  the  noise  of  wars  and  of  trumpets  and  clattering  of 
arms  was  heard  there  .  .  .  that  then  my  lot  should 
be  were  there  was  peace  and  quietness,  where  the 
voice  of  the  truth  was  heard,  and  where  was  plenty  of 
Gospel  opportunities  ! '  '  Prithee,  child,'  said  Dr.  Busby 
to  him,  after  the  Restoration,  '  who  made  thee  a  Non- 
conformist?'—  'Truly,  sir,  you  made  me  one,  for 
you  taught  me  those  things  that  hindered  me  from 
conforming.'  ^ 

With  the  Restoration  the  Abbey  naturally  returned 
to  its  former  state.^  Dr.  Busby  was  still  there,*  to 
carry   the   ampulla   of    the   new   Regalia   at  theRes- 

,^   .  .  1    ,  j_   j_l  T'"       „     TORATION. 

Charles  II.  s  coronation,  and  to  escort  the  Kmg 

round  Dean's  Yard,  hat  on  head,  lest  the  boys  should 

else  think  there  was  any  greater  man  in  the     ^^^^.^ 

w^orld  than  himself.     Heylin  too  came  back, 

now  that '  his  two  good  friends,  the  House  of  Commons 

1  This  was  the  hour  fixed  by  Parliament  for  the  lectures  (Com- 
mons' Journals,  Feb.  20,  1648).  During  those  hours  all  walking  in 
the  Abbey,  Cloisters,  or  Churchyard  was  forbidden.     (Ibid.  May  28, 

1648.) 

2  Wordsworth's  End.  Biog.  vi.  127,  128,  134. 

3  The  distinction  of  stalls  was  now  abolished  {Le  Nere,  iii.  359). 
An  order  remains  for  £2000  to  be  paid  to  His  Majesty,  in  the  name  of 
the  Dean  and  Chapter,  as  a  humble  testimony  of  their  gratitude  for 
restoring  of  the  Church.     (Chapter  Book,  Aug.  8,  1661.) 

i  It  seems  to  have  been  thought  necessary  to  procure  a  certificate  to 
his  loyalty  from  Cosin,  Sanderson,  and  Earles.     (State  Papers,  1660.) 


284         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

and  the  Lord  of  Lincoln,  were  out  of  Westminster.' 
He  began  again  his  buildings  and  his  studies  ;  '  erected 
a  new  dining-room,  and  beautified  the  other  rooms  of 
his  house ' ;  rejoiced  that  '  his  old  bad  eyes  had  seen  the 
King's  return ' ;  was  visited  by  the  Bishops  of  the  new 
generation  as  an  oracle  of  ancient  times ;  and  turned 
to  a  good  omen  the  thunderstorm  which  broke  over  the 
Abbey  as  he  and  his  friends  were  at  supper  after  the 
Coronation, — 'The  ordnance  of  Heaven  is  answering 
the  ordnance  of  the  Tower.'  ^  On  the  night  before  his 
last  sickness  he  dreamed  that  he  saw  '  his  late  Majesty ' 
Charles  I.,  who  said  to  him,  'Peter,  I  will  have  you 
buried  under  your  seat  in  church,  for  you  are  rarely 
seen  but  there  or  at  your  study.'  This,  with  the  shock 
Buried  July  ^^  the  accidental  burning  of  his  surplice,  pre- 
10, 1662.  pared  him  for  his  end ;  and  he  died  on  Ascen- 
sion Day,  1662,  and  was  buried  under  his  Subdean's  seat, 
according  to  his  dream  and  his  desire.^  His  monument 
is  not  far  off,  in  the  North  Aisle,  with  an  epitaph  by 
Dean  Earles. 

In  the  North  Transept,  where  now  stands  the  monu- 
ment of  the  Three  Captains,  a  Font  was  then  '  newly 
set  up ' ;  and  two  young  men  ^  were  baptized  publicly 
by  the  Dean.  One  of  them,  Paul  Thorndyke,  was  the 
son  of  the  emigrant  to  New  England,  and  had  been 
probably  baptized  at  Boston.  The  repetition  of  the 
ceremony  was  no  doubt  caused  by  his  uncle,  Herbert 
Thorndyke  the  Prebendary.  The  other,  Duell  Pead,  was 
perhaps  an  instance  of  those  whose  baptism  had  been 

1  Evelyn  heard  him  preach  at  the  Abbey  on  Feb.  29, 1661,  on  friend- 
ship and  charity.     '  He  was  quite  dark.'    (Memoirs,  Feb.  29,  1661.) 

■^  Bernard's  Heylin,  pp.  200,  248,  249,  280,  292. 

3  Paul  Thorndyke,  aged  about  20;  Duell  Pead,  aged  16,  April  18, 
1663.     (Register.) 


UNDER   CHARLES   II.  285 

delayed  in  the  troubled  time  of  the  Commonwealth  — 
one  of  many  instances  which  are  said  to  have  caused 
the  addition  to  the  Prayer  Book,  in  1662,  of  a  form  for 
the  '  Baptism  of  Persons  of  Eiper  Years.' 

Through  the  eyes  of  Pepys  we  see  the  gradual 
transition :  — 

July  1,  IGGO.  —  In  the  afternoon  to  the  Abbey,      Pepys's 
where  a  good  sermon  by  a  stranger  —  but  no  Com-     >'e"iarks. 
men  Prayer  yet. 

July  15.  — In  the  afternoon  to  Henry  VII. 's  Chapel,  Avhere 
I  heard  a  service  and  a  sermon. 

Sept.  23. — To  the  Abbey,  where  I  expected  to  hear  Mr. 
Baxter  or  Mr.  Rowe  preach  their  farewell  sermon,  and  in  Mr. 
Symons's  pew.  I  heard  Mr.  Rowe.-^  Before  sermon  I  laughed 
at  the  reader,  who  in  his  prayer  desires  of  God  that  he  would 
imprint  His  word  on  the  thumbs  of  our  right  hands,  and  on 
the  right  great  toes  of  our  right  feet.  In  the  midst  of  the 
sermon  some  plaster  fell  from  the  top  of  the  Abbey,  that 
made  me  and  all  the  rest  in  our  pew  afraid,  and  I  wished 
myself  out, 

Oct.  2.  —  To  the  Abbey,  to  see  them  at  Vespers.  There 
I  found  but  a  thin  congregation. 

Oct.  4.  —  To  Westminster  Abbey,  where  we  saw  Dr. 
Frewen  translated  to  the  Archbishopric  of  York.  There  I 
saw  the  Bishops  of  Winchester  [Duppa],  Bangor  [Roberts], 
Rochester  [Warner],  Bath  and  Wells  [Pierce],  and  Salisbury 

1  John  Rowe,  the  successor  of  William  Strong  (see  p.  146),  as 
the  pastor  of  the  ludependeut  congregation  in  the  Abbey.  He  had 
preached  on  the  Thanksgiving  for  the  victory  over  the  Spanish  fleet, 
October  8,  16.56,  on  Job  xxxvi.  24,  25,  and  on  Bradshaw's  funeral, 
November  2,  1659  (see  vol.  ii.  p.  50).  He  was  of  a  tall  dignified  deport- 
ment, and  a  good  Greek  scholar.  When  young  he  kept  a  diary  in 
that  language,  and  was  much  devoted  to  Plato.  He  had  for  his  assist- 
ant in  the  Abbey  Seth  Ward.  A  saying  of  his  on  the  Schoolmen  is 
worth  preserving,  '  They  had  great  heads,  but  little  hearts.'  ( Christian 
Witness,  1868,  p.  316.) 


286         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

[Henchman],  all  in  their  habits,  in  Henry  VII, 's  Chapel. 
But,  Lord !  at  their  going  out,  how  people  did  look  again 
at  them,  as  strange  creatures,  and  few  with  any  kind  of  love 
and  respect ! 

Oct.  7.  —  After  dinner  to  the  Abbey,  where  I  heard  them 
read  the  Church  Service,  but  very  ridiculously.  A  poor  cold 
sermon  of  Dr.  Lamb,  one  of  the  Prebendaries,  came  after- 
wards, and  so  all  ended. 

Oct.  28.  —  To  Westminster  Abbey,  where  with  much  diffi- 
culty going  round  by  the  Cloisters,  I  got  in  ;  this  day  being 
a  great  day,  for  the  consecrating  of  five  bishops,  which  was 
done  after  sermon  ;  but  I  could  not  get  into  Henry  VII. 's 
Chapel. 

JVov.  4.  —  In  the  morning  to  our  own  church,  where  Dr. 
Mills  did  begin  to  nibble  at  the  Common  Prayer.  .  .  .  After 
dinner  ...  to  the  Abbey,  where  the  first  time  that  ever  I 
heard  the  organs  in  a  cathedral.  My  wife  seemed  very  pretty 
to-day,  it  being  the  first  time  I  had  given  her  leave  to  wear 
a  black  patch. ■^ 

By  the  autumn  of  the  next  year  the  restored  Church 
in  the  Abbey  was  established  on  a  surer  basis,  and  is 
described  by  a  graver  witness.  '  On  October  10,  1661,' 
says  Evelyn  — 

In  the  afternoone  preach'd  at  the  Abbey  Dr.  Basire,  that 
greate  travailler,  or  rather  French  Apostle  who  had  been  plant- 
ing the  Church  of  England  in  divers  parts  of  the  Levant  and 
Asia.  He  shew'd  that  the  Church  of  England  was  for  purity 
of  doctrine,  substance,  decency,  and  beauty,  the  most  perfect 
under  Heaven  ;  that  England  was  the  very  land  of  Goshen. 

The  Episcopal  ceremonies,  to  which  Pepys  referred, 
showed  how  closely  the  ecclesiastical  feeling  of  the  Ees- 
toration  attached  itself  to  the  Abbey.     The  '  confirma- 

1  Pepys's  Diary,  i.  110-150. 


UXDER   CHAKLES   II.  287 

tion'  of  the  elections  was  probably  transferred  hither 
from  its  usual  place  in  Bow  Church  for  the  sake 

'■  1660,  Oct.  9. 

of  more  solemnity.    The  consecration  which  he 
describes  was  the  first  of  a  long  series,  in  order  to  fill 
up  the  havoc  of  the  Civil  Wars.     First  came  the  five 
Bishops,  whom  Pepys  vainly  tried  to  see ;  ^  Sheldon,  the 
Latitudinarian  of  Falkland's  days,  the  High 

Ml  f        *^ct.  28. 

Churchman  of  the  Restoration  ;  Sanderson,  the 
learned  casuist ;  Morley,  Henchman,  and  Griffith,  —  for 
the  Sees  of  London,  Lincoln,  Worcester,  Salisbury,  and 
St.  Asaph's.     Then  a  month  later  came  seven     ^     „ 

^  Dee.  2. 

more :  Lucy,  Lloyd,  Gauden,  author  of  the '  Icon 
Basilike ' ;    Sterne ;   Cosin,  the  chief   Eitualist   of   his 
day ;  Walton,  of  the  Polyglott ;  and  Lacey ;  for  the  Sees 
of  St.  David's,  Llandaff,  Exeter,  Carlisle,  Durham,  Ches- 
ter, and  Peterborough.     Then  again,  in  the  next  month. 
Ironside,  Nicolson,  the  moderate  Reynolds,  and     iggo-ei. 
]\Ionk,  the  brother  of  the  General,  were  conse-     '^^°-  ^• 
crated  to  the  Sees  of  Bristol,  Norwich,  Gloucester,  and 
Hereford.^     The  year  closed  with  the  ill-omened  conse- 
cration  of   the   four   new   Scottish   Bishops  :     ^^^  ^^ 
Fairfoul  of  Glasgow,  Hamilton  of  Galloway, 
the  apostolical  Leighton  of  Dunblane,  the  worldly  and 
unfortunate  Sharpe  of  St.  Andrews.     '  Once  a  day,'  he 
had  said  in  describing  his  preliminary  stay  in  London, 
'  I  go  to  the  Abbey.'  ^ 

1  Two  consecrations  had  occurred  in  Henry  VII. 's  Chapel  in  the 
stormy  years  of  Williams's  period  —  of  Prideaux  to  Worcester,  Dec. 
19,  1641;  of  Browning  to  Exeter,  May  15,  1642.  Beveridge,  in  the 
Debates  of  the  Commission  of  1689  (p.  102),  said  that,  'in  the  case  of 
the  Scotch  Bishops,  King  James  I.  .  .  .  was  present  at  the  consecra- 
tion in  Westminster  Abbey.'  This  is  a  mistake.  They  were  consecrated 
in  London  House.  But  it  shows  the  sentiment  of  Beveridge's  own 
time  with  regard  to  the  Abbey. 

2  Dr.  Aliestree  preaclied.     (Evelyn,  ii.  160.) 

3  Burton's  Hist,  of  Scotland,  vii.  409. 


288         THE   ABBEY   SINCE  THE   REFORMATION. 

These  crowded  consecrations  were  afterwards  suc- 
ceeded by  isolated  instances  down  to  the  beginning  of 
the  next  century.  Earles,  on  JS^ovember  30,  1662,  to 
the  See  of  Worcester;  Barrow,^  July  5,  1663,  to  Sodor 
and  Man;  Eainbow,  July  10,  1664,  to  Carlisle;  Carle- 
ton,  February  11,  1672,  to  Bristol.  The  first  of  these 
names  leads  us  back  to  the  Deanery.  John  Earles,  au- 
john  Earles  thor  of  the  '  Microcosm,'  had  attended  the  Royal 
dfed'ft '  Family  in  their  exile,  and  returned  with  them.^ 
buried  hf^'  'He  was  the  man  of  all  the  clergy  for  whom 
coue^e  the  King  had  the  greatest  esteem,  and  in  whom 
Chapel.  j^^g  ^^^^^^  never  hear  or  see  any  one  thing  amiss.'  ^ 
He  held  the  Deanery  only  two  years,  before  his  promo- 
tion to  the  Sees  of  Worcester  and  Salisbury.^  His  dear 
friend  Evelyn  was  present  at  his  consecration :  — 

Invited  by  the  Deane  of  Westminster  to  his  consecration 
dinner  and  ceremony,  on  his  being  made  Bishop  of  Worcester. 
Dr.  Bolton  preach'd  in  the  Abbey  Church ;  then  follow'd  the 
consecration  by  the  Bishops  of  London,  Chichester,  Winchester, 
Salisbury,  &c.  After  this  was  one  of  the  most  plentiful  and 
magnificent  dinners  that  in  my  life  I  ever  saw ;  it  cost  near 
£600  as  I  M'as  inform'd.  Here  were  the  Judges,  Nobility, 
clergy,  and  gentlemen  innumerable,  this  Bishop  being  uni- 
versally beloved  for  his  sweete  and  gentle  disposition.  He 
was  author  of  those  Characters  which  go  under  the  name  of 
Blount.  He  translated  his  late  Ma*''"'  Icon  into  Latine,  was 
Clerk  of  his  Closet,  Chaplaine,  Deane  of  WestraS  and  yet 
a  most  humble,  meeke,  but  cheerful  man,  an  excellent  scholar, 

1  His  more  famous  nephew  and  namesake  preached  the  sermon. 

2  Clarendon's  Life,  i.  57,  58 ;  Pepys,  i.  96. 

3  Burnet's  Oivii  Time,  i.  225;  Walton's  Lives,  i.  415. 

*  He  died,  to  the  '  no  great  sorrow  of  those  who  reckoned  his  death 
was  Just  for  labouring  against  the  Five  Mile  Act.'  (Calamy'a  Baxter, 
i.  174.) 


UNDER   CHARLES   II.  289 

and  rare  preacher.  I  had  the  honour  to  be  loved  by  him. 
He  married  me  at  Paris,  during  his  Majesties  and  the  Churches 
exile.  When  I  tooke  leave  of  him  he  brought  me  to  the 
Cloisters  in  his  episcopal  habit. 

Dolben  followed ;  himself  a  Westminster  student  of 
Christ  Church,  and  famous  in  the  Civil  Wars  for  his 
valour  at  Marston  Moor  and  at  York,  and  for  ,  ,  ,,  „ 

'  JohnDolben, 

his  keeping  up  the  service  of  the  Church  of  Bis?w?"of 
England,  with  Fell  and  AUestree  at  Oxford,  fgef''*"' 
He  was  the  first  Dean  who,  by  a  combination  o/York^'°^ 
which  continued  through  nine  successive  in-  Buried  at 
cumbencies,  united  the  See  of  Kochester  with  ^°''^'  ^^^^' 
the  Deanery,  and  gave  to  that  poor  and  neighbouring 
bishopric  at  once   an  income   and   a  town  residence. 
He  held  it  till  his  translation  to  York,  where  he  died 
and  was    buried.     His  daughter  Catherine  lies    in  St. 
Benedict's  Chapel.     '  He  was    an  extraordinary  lovely 
person,  though  grown  too  fat ;  of  an  open  countenance, 
a  lively  piercing  eye,  and  a  majestic  presence.     Not 
any  of  the  Bishops'  Bench,  I  may  say  not  all  of  them, 
had  that  interest  and  authority  in  the  House  of  Lords 
which  he  had.'     During  the  twenty  years  of  his  office, 
'  he  was  held  in  great  esteem  by  the  old  inhabitants  of 
Westminster,'  and  spoken  of  as  '  a  very  good  Dean.'  ^ 

Both  in  his  time,  and  in  his  predecessor's,  much  was 
spent  by  the  Chapter  on  repairs  of  the  church.  Dolben 
persuaded  them,  on  the  day  of  his  installation,  to  assign 
an  equal  portion  of  their  dividends  to  this  purpose.^ 

1  Widmore,  pp.  162,  164. 

"  '  Went  to  see  an  organ  with  Dr.  Gibbons,  at  the  Dean  of  West- 
minster's lodgingfs  at  the  Abbey,  the  Bishop  of  Rochester  (Dolben), 
where  he  lives  like  a  great  prelate,  his  lodgings  being  very  good.  I 
saw  his  lady,  of  whom  the  Terrce  Filius  at  Oxford  was  once  so  merry, 
and  two  children,  whereof  one  a  very  pretty  little  boy,  like  him,  so  fat 

VOL.  II.  — 19 


290         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

'That  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  stands  so  high  above 
ground,  and  that  the  Church  of  Westminster  lies  not  Jlat 
upon  itj  says  South,  in  dedicating  his  Sermon  to  him, 
'  is  your  lordship's  commendation.'  ^ 

The  Plague  of  1665  drove  the  School  to  Chiswick,^ 
where  it  long  left  its  memorials  in  the  names  of  the  boys 
written  on  the  walls  of  the  old  College  House,  including 
Dryden  and  Montague,  whose  monuments  in  the  Abbey 
derive  additional  interest  from  their  connection  with  the 
School. 

'  Not  to  pass  over  that  memorable  event,  the  Fire  of 
London,  September  2  (says  a  Westminster  scholar  of 
that  time),  it  happened  between  my  election  and  admis- 
sion. On  Sunday,  between  one  and  eleven  forenoon,  as 
I  was  standing  upon  the  steps  which  lead  up  to  the 
pulpit  in  Westminster  Abbey,  I  perceived  some  people 
below  me  running  to  and  fro  in  a  seeming  disquietude 
and  consternation.'  '  Without  any  ceremony,  I  took 
my  leave  of  the  preacher,  and  ascended  Parliament 
Steps  near  the  Thames.  The  wind  blowing  strong  east- 
ward, the  flakes  at  last  reached  Westminster.' ^  The 
next  day,  '  the  Dean,  who  in  the  Civil  Wars  had  fre- 
quently stood  sentinel,  collected  his  scholars  together, 
marching  with  them  on  foot  to  put  a  stop,  if  possible, 
to  the  conflagration.  I  was  a  kind  of  page  to  him,  not 
being  of  the  number  of  the  King's  scholars.  We  were 
employed  many  hours  fetching  water  from  the  back- 

and  black.'  (Pepys,  iv.  51. — February  24,  1667.)  'A  corpulent  man 
—  my  special  loving  friend  and  excellent  neighbour'  [at  Bromley]. 
(Evelyn,  Memoirs,  iii.  206.)  'Dined  at  the  Bishof)  of  Rochester's  at  the 
Abbey,  it  being  his  marriage  day,  after  twenty-four  years.'  (iii.  58, 
January  14,  1681-82.) 

^  South's  Sermon  on  Dolben's  consecration  to  Rochester. 

2  Taswell,  9.     See  Life  of  Miss  Berry,  i.  6. 

8  Taswell,  10,  12.     See  Chapter  IV. 


UNDER   CHARLES   II.  291 

side  of  St.  Dunstan's  in  the  East.  The  next  day,  just 
after  sunset  at  night,  I  went  to  the  King's  Bridge. ^  As 
I  stood  with  many  others,  I  watched  the  gradual  ap- 
proaches of  the  fire  towards  St.  Paul's.  About  eight 
o'clock  the  fire  broke  out  on  the  top  of  the  church  .  . 
and  before  nine  blazed  so  conspicuous  as  to  enable 
me  to  read  very  clearly  a  16mo  edition  of  Terrence 
which  I  carried  in  my  pocket.'  ^ 

Sprat  was  the  most  literary  Dean  since  the  time  of 
Andrewes.  His  eagerness  against  the  memory  of  JMilton 
in  the  Abbey,  and  his  liberality  towards  Dry-  Thomas 
den,  have  been  already  mentioned.^  The  shifty  Buhop  of 
character  which  he  bore  in  politics  is  illus-  1684-1713.' 
trated  by  his  conduct  m  the  Precincts  on  the  accession 
of  James  II.  The  Prebendaries  were  summoned  by 
him  to  the  Deanery  in  the  middle  of  the  night  to  be 
reassured  by  his  account  of  the  new  King's  speech  at 
the  first  Council.  They  were  alarmed,  however,  at  his 
coronation  to  observe  that  whilst  the  Queen  expressed 
much  devotion,  the  King  showed  little  or  none,  and 
that  at  the  responses  he  never  moved  his  lips.*  The 
Abbey  was  almost  the  only  °  Church  in  London  where 
James  II.'s  Declaration  of  Indulgence  was  read.  *I 
was  at  Westminster  School'  (says  Lord  Dartmouth) 
'  at  the  time,  and  heard  it  read  in  the  Abbey.  As 
soon  as  Bishop  Sprat  (who  was  Dean)  gave  orders  for 
reading  it,  there  was  so  great  a  murmur  and  Reading  Ae 
noise  in  the  Church,  that  nobody  could  hear  of  indui- 
him ;  but  before  he  had  finished,  there  was  20,  less. 

^  The  pier  by  New  Palace  Yard. 

2  Charles  II.  feared  for  the  Abbey  even  more  than  for  his  own 
Palace  of  Whitehall.     (Clarendon's  Life,  iii.  91.) 

3  See  Chapter  IV. 

4  Patrick's  Works,  ix.  488,  490.  *  Evelyn,  iii.  243. 


292         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

none  left  but  a  few  Prebends  in  their  stalls,  the  choris- 
ters, and  the  Westminster  scholars.  The  Bishop  could 
hardly  hold  tlie  proclamation  in  his  hands  for  trem- 
bling, and  everybody  looked  under  a  strange  consterna- 
tion.' ^  '  He  was  surprised  on  the  day  when  the  seven 
Bishops  were  dismissed  from  the  King's  Bench  to  hear 
the  bells  of  his  own  Abbey  joining  in  the  many  peals 
of  the  other  London  Churches,  and  promptly  silenced 
them,  not  without  angry  murmurs.'  ^  He  died  in  his 
palace  at  Bromley  —  where  was  laid  the  Flowerpot 
Buried  May    Couspiracy  agaiust  him  —  but  was  buried  in 

25,  1713,  1  J       o 

aged  77.  the  Abbey  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas.^ 
'  The  monument  was  afterwards  moved,  for  the  sake  of 
greater  publicity,  to  its  present  position  in  the  Nave.'  ^ 
In  his  time  began  the  expensive  repairs  ^  which  were 
carried  on  for  many  years  under  Sir  Christopher  Wren, 
with  the  help  of  a  Parliamentary  grant  from  the  duty 
on  coal,  on  the  motion  of  JMontague,  Earl  of  Halifax, 
once  a  scholar  at  Westminster  — '  a  kind  and  generous 
thing  in  tliat  noble  person  thus  to  remember  the  place 
of  his  education.'  ^ 

It  was  through  Sprat  that  Barrow  preached '  twice 
in  the  Abbey.  The  Dean  '  desired  him  not  to  be  long, 
for  that  auditory  loved  short  sermons,  and  were  used  to 

1  Note  in  Burnet's  Oivn  Time,  i.  218.  According  to  Patrick  (ix.  412) 
he  sent  it  '  to  one  of  the  Petty  Canons  to  read.' 

2  Macanlay,  ii.  368. 

*  His  son  Thomas,  Archdeacon  of  Rochester  (1720),  and  his  infant 
son  George,  Avere  buried  (168-3)  in  the  same  vault.  The  latter  has  a 
monument  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Benedict. 

*  Widmore,  p.  160. 

5  Neale,  i.  179.  In  1694  a  fire  in  the  Cloisters  burnt  the  MSS.  in 
Williams's  Library.     (Widmore,  p.  164.) 

6  Widmore,  p.  165. 

'^  He  also  preached,  at  the  consecration  of  his  uncle  to  the  See  of 
Man  in  1663  (see  p.  158),  a  fine  sermon  on  the  advantages  of  an 
established  religion. 


NORTH  transp:pt,  1689. 


UNDER  JAMES  11.  293 

them.  He  replied,  "  My  lord,  I  will  show  you  the  ser- 
mon," and  pulling  it  out  of  his  pocket,  put  it  into  the 
Bishop's  hands.     The  text  was.  Proverbs  x.  18,  Bairow-s 

Seriuons  ia 

He  that  uttcrdh  slander  is  a  liar.  The  sermon  the  Abbey. 
was  accordingly  divided  into  two  parts  :  one  treated 
of  slander,  the  other  of  lies.  The  Dean  desired  him 
to  content  himself  with  preaching  only  the  first  part ; 
to  which  he  consented  not  without  some  reluctancy ; 
and  in  speaking  that  only  it  took  an  hour  and  a  half. 
Another  time,  upon  the  same  person's  invitation,  he 
preached  at  the  Abbey  on  a  holiday.  It  was  a  custom 
for  the  servants  of  the  Church  on  all  holidays,  Sundays 
excepted,  betwixt  the  sermon  and  evening  prayers,  to 
show  the  tombs  and  effigies  of  the  Kings  and  Queens  in 
wax  to  the  meaner  sort  of  people  who  then  flock  from  all 
the  corners  of  the  town  to  pay  the  twopence  to  see  the 
play  of  the  dead  folks}  as,  I  have  heard,  a  Devonshire 
clown  not  improperly  called  it.  These  persons  seeing 
Dr.  Barrow  in  the  pulpit  after  the  hour  was  past,  and 
fearing  to  lose  that  time  in  hearing  which  they  thought 
they  could  more  profitably  employ  in  viewinj,  these, 
I  say,  became  impatient,  and  caused  the  organ  to  be 
struck  up  against  him,  and  would  not  give  over  playing 
till  they  had  blowed  him  down.'^  The  example  of 
Barrow  shows  that  the  preaching  in  the  Abbey  was 
not  then  confined  to  the  Chapter.  Another  instance 
is  recorded  by  Evelyn :  — 

In  the  afternoone  that  famous  proselyte,  Mens'''  Brevall 
preach'd  at  the  Abbey,  in  English,  extremely  well  and  with 
much  eloquence.  He  had  ben  a  Capuchine,  but  much  better 
learned  than  most  of  that  order.' 

^  See  the  note  at  the  end  of  Chapter  IV. 

2  Pope's  Life  of  Seth  Ward,  pp.  147,  148. 

3  Memoirs,  February   11,   1671-72.     To   these   may  be  added  the 


294        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

But  the  Precincts  themselves  were  well  occupied. 
We  catch  a  glimpse  of  them  through  John  ^orth, 
John  North,  aftciwards  Master  of  Trinity,  who,  as  Clerk 
Piebeudary.   of  the  Closct,  had  a  stall  at  Westminster, 

which  also  suited  him  well  because  there  was  a  house,  and 
accommodations  for  living  in  town,  and  the  content  and  joy- 
he  conceived  in  being  a  member  of  so  considerable  a  body 
of  learned  men,  and  dignified  in  the  Church,  as  the  body  of 
Prebends  were  —  absolutely  unlike  an  inferior  college  in  the 
university.  Here  was  no  faction,  division,  or  uneasiness, 
but,  as  becoming  persons  learned  and  wise,  they  lived  truly 
as  brethren,  quarrelling  being  never  found  but  among  fools 
or  knaves.  He  used  to  deplore  the  bad  condition  of  that 
collegiate  church,  which  to  support  was  as  much  as  they  were 
able  to  do.  It  was  an  extensive  and  industrious  managery  to 
carry  on  the  repairs.  And  of  later  time  so  much  hath  been 
laid  out  that  way  as  would  have  rebuilt  some  part  of  it. 
This  residence  was  one  of  his  retreats,  where  he  found  some 
ease  and  comfort  in  his  deplorable  weakness.^ 

Another  Prebendary  of  this  time,  for  sixteen  years 
(1672-1689),  was  Symon  Patrick,  at  that  time  Piector 
of  St.  Paul's,  Covent  Garden,  afterwards  Dean  of  Peter- 
symon  borough,  and  Bishop  of  Chichester  and  of  Ely. 
pretendary,  A  touching  interest  is  added  to  the  Precincts 
1672-89,  i^y  ^i^g  record  of  his  joys  and  sorrows.  He 
first  resided  there  shortly  after  his  singular  marriage  in 
1676,  'in  a  house  new  built  in  the  Little  Cloisters,  that 
he  might  attend  to  the  office  of  Treasurer.'  '  Here,'  he 
Bays,  '  we   enjoyed   many   happy   days,   and   my   wife 

famous  sermons  of  Fuller,  on  March  27,  1643;  Nathaniel  Hardy,  on 
Feb.  24,  1646;  Bishop  Lloyd,  Nov.  5,  1680;  Bishop  Hough,  Nov.  5, 
1701;   Bishop  Beveridge,  Nov.  .5,  1704.     These  three  last,  no  doubt, 
»vere  appointed  by  the  House  of  Lords. 
1  Lives  of  the  Norths,  iii.  325. 


UNDER  JAMES   11.  295 

thought  it  the  sweetest  part  of  our  lives  which  we  spent 
here.'  Here  he  finished  his  commentary  on  the  Psalms, 
'  concluding  with  the  last  words  "  Allelujah !  Alle- 
lujah ! " '  'He  had  the  greater  reason  to  be  thankful, 
because  God  had  lately  taken  away  an  excellent  neigh- 
bour, Dr.  Outram,!  g^  f^P  stronger  man  he  thought  than 
himself.'  '  From  not  preaching  in  the  afternoon  he  had 
the  more  leisure  for  his  composures.'  In  these  cloisters 
he  lost  one  son,  and  had  another  born.  '  On  that  day  the 
hymn  at  evening  prayer  in  the  quire  of  Westminster 
was  the  thirty-third  Psalm,  "  Eejoice  in  the  Lord,  ye 
righteous  ;  for  it  becometh  well  the  just  to  be  thank- 
ful." '  On  November  10,  1680,  he  preached  '  a  sermon 
to  Convocation  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  of  which  the 
Archbishop  (Sancroft)  desired  to  have  a  copy,  he  being  so 
deafish  that  he  could  not  hear  it.  On  March  24th  he 
had  the  most  pleasant  day  that  he  had  of  a  long  time 
enjoyed.'  He  had  fasted  that  day  (it  was  the  vigil  of 
the  Annunciation),  and  found  his  'spirit  so  free,  so 
clear,  so  pleased,  that  to  be  always  in  that  blessed  tem- 
per he  thought  he  could  be  content  to  be  poor,  ready  to 
lie  under  any  misery  .  .  .  and  could  have  been  con- 
tented to  eat  and  drink  no  more,  if  he  could  have  con- 
tinued in  that  sweet  disposition,  which  he  wished  his 
little  one  might  inherit  more  than  all  the  riches  in  this 
world.'  The  anthem  at  the  evening  prayer  was  the 
third  Psalm,  which  he  heard  with  great  joy,  as  applica- 
ble to  the  Popish  Plot.  He  concluded  his  meditations 
with  these  words,  '  0  Lord,  if  it  please  Thee,  give  me 
many  more  such  happy  days,  and  make  me  very  thankful, 
if  I  have  them  but  seldom.'  These  '  gracious  tempers  ' 
returned  to  him  on  the  31st  at  evening  prayer,  particu- 
larly he  felt  '  what  it  is  to  have  a  soul  lifted  up  to  God 
1  See  Chapter  IV. 


296        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

(as  the  words  of  the  anthem  were,  Psalm  Ixxxvi.) 
above  the  body,  above  all  things  seen  in  this  world.'  ^ 

Amidst  the  troubles  of  1(387  he  lost  a  little  girl, 
Penelope,  '  of  very  great  beauty  —  very  lovely,'  he  adds, 
'  in  our  eyes,  and  grew  every  day  more  delightful.'  On 
the  20th  of  September  at  3  a.m.  she  died,  and  was  buried 
the  same  day  by  the  monument  of  Dean  Goodman. 
*  It  was  no  small  difficulty  to  keep  my  wife  from  being 
overcome  with  grief.  But  I  upheld  and  comforted  her, 
as  she  did  me,  as  well  as  we  were  able.  And  the 
Psalms  for  the  day  suited  us  admirably,  the  first  being 
very  mournful,  and  the  next  exceeding  joyful,  teaching 
us  to  say,  "  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul,"  and  "  Forget 
not  all  his  benefits."  ' 

In  the  troubled  days  of  1688  the  Little  Cloisters 
witnessed  more  than  one  interesting  interview.  On 
the  7th  of  August,  Dr.  Tenison  (writes  Patrick)  '  came 
to  my  house  at  Westminster,  where  he  communicated 
an  important  secret  to  me,  that  the  Prince  of  Orange 
intended  to  come  over  with  an  army,  and  therefore 
desired  me  to  carry  all  my  money  and  what  I  had  val- 
uable out  of  London.'^  On  the  close  of  the  day  (Decem- 
ber 17)  on  which  the  Prince  of  Orange  arrived  at  St. 
James's,  '  it  was  a  very  rainy  night,  when.  Dr.  Tenison 
and  I  being  together,  and  discoursing  in  my  parlour  in 
the  Little  Cloisters,  one  knocked  hard  at  the  door.  It 
being  opened,  in  came  the  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  to 
whom  I  said,  "  What  makes  your  lordship  come  abroad 


1  In  this  time,  when,  at  the  instance  of  Archbishop  Sancroft,  the 
Communion  was  celebrated  in  the  Abbey  every  Sunday,  Patrick 
preached,  persuading  to  frequent  Communion.  (Patrick's  Works, 
ix.  508.)  The  quiremen  and  servants  of  the  Church  were  required 
to  attend  at  the  three  festivals.     (Chapter  Book,  1686.) 

2  Patrick's  Works,  ix.  513. 


UNDER  JAMES  II.  297 

in  such  weather,  when  the  rain^  pours  down  as  if 
heaven  and  earth  would  come  together  ? "  To  which  he 
answered,  "  He  had  been  at  Lambeth,  and  was  sent  by 
the  Bishops  to  wait  upon  the  Prince  and  know  when 
they  might  all  come  and  pay  their  duty  to  him."  '  Well 
may  that  stormy  night  have  dwelt  in  Patrick's  memory. 
Immediately  afterwards  followed  his  preparation  of  the 
Comprehension  Bill,  his  introduction  to  the  Prince,  and 
his  elevation  to  the  see  of  Chichester.^ 

Amongst  the  Prebendaries  of  this  period  we  have  al- 
ready noticed  Horneck,  Thorndyke,  Triplett,  Thomdyke, 

^  11)01— 7'2. 

and  Outram.     Another  is  Pilchard  Lucas,  who  Horieck, 

1693-96. 

felt  in  his  blindness  that  he  was  not  truly  re-  ^np!^*^*; 
leased  from  his  duty  to  that  body  of  which  he  outram, 
was  still  a  member,  but,  as  '  it  were  "  fighting  on  Lucas,  i7i5. 
his  stumps,"  continued  to  study  and  to  write.'  But  the 
most  conspicuous  is  Ptobert  South.  We  last  saw  him 
as  a  sturdy  Koyalist  boy  in  the  School.  In  1863,  by 
the  influence  of  Lord  Clarendon,  he  received  Robert 

South, 

a  stall  at  Westminster,  and  in  1670  another  leos-i-ie. 
at  Christ  Church.     He  was  presented  in  1677  with  the 
living  of  Islip,  the  Confessor's   birthplace,  one  of  the 
choicest  pieces  of  Westminster  preferment,  where,  in 
honour  of  the  Founder,  he  rebuilt  both  chancel  and 
rectory.     But  we  here  are  concerned  with  him  south-s^  .^ 
only  in  connection  with  Westminster.     Of  his  the  Abbey. 
famous  sermons,  some  of   the  most  remarkable  were 
heard  in  the  Abbey,  and  of  these  two  or  three  have  a 
special  local  interest.^     One  was  that  discourse,  marvel- 

1  The  Archbishop,  who  had  consented  to  go,  put  his  refusal  on  the 
weather.  '  Would  have  me  kill  myself —  Do  you  not  see  what  a  cold 
I  have  ?  (and  indeed  he  had  a  sore  one).'     Patrick,  ix.  515. 

2  Patrick,  ix.  514-518. 

^  All  Contingencies  under  Divine  Providence,  Feb.  22,  1684-85; 
Wisdom  of  this  World,  April  30,  1676;  Sacramental  Preparation,  April 


298        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   EEFORMATION. 

lous  for  its  pugnacious  personalities,  on  'All  Contin- 
gencies under  Divine  Providence,'  which  contained  the 
allusions  to  the  sudden  rise  of  Agathocles  '  handling 
the  clay  and  making  pots  under  his  father  ; '  '  Masani- 
ello,  a  poor  fisherman,  with  his  red  cap  and  angle ; ' 
and  '  such  a  bankrupt,  beggarly  fellow  as  Cromwell, 
entering  the  Parliament  House  with  a  threadbare  torn 
cloak  and  a  greasy  hat,  and  perhaps  neither  of  them 
paid  for.'  ^  At  hearing  which  the  King  fell  into  a  vio- 
lent fit  of  laughter,  and  turning  to  the  Lord  Rochester, 
said,  '  Ods  fish,  Lory,  your  chaplain  must  be  a  bishop, 
therefore  put  me  in  mind  of  him  at  the  next  death.' 
But  the  King  himself  died  first,  and  his  death  prevented 
the  delivery  of  the  only  one  of  South's  sermons  which 
had  express  reference  to  the  institution  with  which  he 
was  so  closely  connected.  '  It  was  planned  and  proposed 
to  have  been  preached  at  Westminster  Abbey  at  a  sol- 
emn meeting  of  such  as  had  been  bred  at  Westminster 
School.  But  the  death  of  King  Charles  II.  happening 
in  the  meantime,  the  design  of  this  solemnity  fell  to 
the  ground  with  him.'  ^  It  was,  however,  published  at 
the  command  of  '  a  very  great  person  (Lord  Jeffries) 
whose  word  then  was  law  as  well  as  his  profession,'  in 
the  hope  that  hereafter '  possibly  some  other  may  conde- 

18,  1688;  Doctrine  of  Merit,  Dec.  5,  1697:  The  Restoration,  May  29, 
1670;  Christian  Mijsferies,  April  29,  1674;  Christian  Pentecost,  1692; 
Gimpoicder  Plot,  Nov.  5,  1663  (at  this  Evel}'!!  was  present  —  Memoirs, 
ii.  213),  1675,  1688;  Virtuous  Education  of  Youth,  1685,  all  preached 
'at  Westminster  Abbey.' 

1  This  sermon  is  in  its  title  denoted  as  preached  at  '  Westminster 
Abbey,  on  Feb.  22,  1684-85.'  This  date  is  three  weeks  after  Charles's 
death,  and  the  story,  as  above  given,  is  told  by  Curll  (Life  of  South, 
p.  Ixxiii.)  as  having  taken  place  apparently  in  the  Chapel  Royal  in 
1681      Either  this  is  a  mistake,  or  the  sermon  was  preached  twice. 

^  With  the  usual  deference  to  royal  etiquette  which  has  always 
marked  the  solemnities  of  the  Royal  School. 


UNDEE  QUEEN  AKNE.  299 

scend  to  preach  it.'  It  is  this  discourse  which  abounds 
in  those  striking  reminiscences  of  his  early  school 
days  already  quoted.  Had  he  preached  it,  he  would 
have  had  ample  revenge  on  his  severe  old  preceptor 
Busby,  who  would  doubtless  have  been  sitting  under 
him,  when  he  launched  out  against  '  those  pedagogical 
Jehus,  those  furious  school-drivers,  those  plagosi  Orhilii, 
those  executioners  rather  than  instructors  or  masters, 
persons  fitter  to  lay  about  them  in  a  coach  or  cart,  or 
to  discipline  boys  before  a  Spartan  altar,  or  rather  upon 
it,  than  to  have  anything  to  do  in  a  school.'  The  ser- 
mon would  have  impressed  his  hearers  with  the  seem- 
ing unconsciousness  of  coming  events  with  which,  on 
the  very  eve  of  James  II. 's  accession,  he  ridiculed  the 
'old  stale  movements  of  Popery's  being  any  day  ready, 
to  return  and  break  in  upon  us.'  And,  in  fact,  on  the 
very  next  occasion  on  which  he  is  recorded  to  have 
preached  in  the  Abbey,  on  November  5,  1688, 

^  -^ '  Nov.  5, 1688. 

we  are  startled  as  we  look  at  the  date,  and 
think  of  the  feelings  which  must  have  been  agitating 
the  whole  congregation,  to  find  not  the  faintest  allusion 
to  the  Eevolution  which  that  very  day  was  accomplish- 
ing itself  in  AVilliam's  landing  at  Torbay.  He  had  not, 
however,  been  insensible  to  the  changes  meditated  by 
James ;  and  one  story  connected  with  his  stall  at  West- 
minster exhibits  his  impatience  of  the  King's  favour 
to  Dissenters.  *  Mr.  Lob,  a  Dissenting  preacher,  being 
much  at  favour  at  Court,  and  being. to  preach  one  day, 
while  the  Doctor  was  obliged  to  be  resident  at  West- 
minster, ...  he  disguised  himself  and  took  a  seat  in 
Mr.  Lob's  conventicle,  when  the  preacher  being  mounted 
up  in  the  pulpit,  and  naming  his  text,  made  nothing  of 
splitting  it  up  into  twenty-six  divisions,  upon  which, 
separately,  he  .very  gravely  undertook  to  expatiate  in 


300         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

their  order ;  thereupon  the  Doctor  rose  up,  and  jogging 
a  friend  who  bore  him  company,  said,  "  Let  us  go 
home  and  fetch  our  gowns  and  slippers,  for  I  find  this 
man  will  make  night  work  of  it."' 

He  was  offered  the  Deanery  of  Westminster  on  the 
death  of  Sprat,  but  replied,  '  that  such  a  chair  would 
be  too  uneasy  for  an  old  infirm  man  to  sit  in,  and  he 
Refusal  of     held  Mmsclf  much  better  satisfied  with  living 

the  Deanery,  .  p      ■,         /~n  ■,        i 

1713.  upon  the  eavesdropping  or  the  Church  than 

to  fare  sumptuously  by  being  placed  at  the  pinnacle  of 
it'  (alluding  to  the  situation  of  his  house  under  the 
Abbey).  He  was  now,  as  he  expressed  it,  '  within  an 
inch  of  the  grave,  since  he  had  lived  to  see  a  gentle- 
man who  was  born  in  the  very  year  in  which  he  was 
made  one  of  the  Prebendaries  of  this  Church  appointed 
to  be  the  Dean  of  it.'  This  feeling  was  increased  on 
the  death  of  Queen  Anne,  '  since  all  that  was  good  and 
gracious,  and  the  very  breath  of  his  nostrils,  had  made 
its  departure  to  the  regions  of  bliss  and  immor- 
tality.' In  1715  he  dedicated  his  sixth  volume 
of  Sermons  to  Bromley,  Secretary  of  State,  as  '  the  last 
and  best  testimony  he  can  render  ...  to  that  excellent 
person.'  One  of  his  last  public  appearances  was  at  the 
election  in  the  Chapter  to  the  office  of  High  Steward, 
Feb  "2  t^®  candidates  being  the  Duke  of  Newcastle 
1715-16.  ^jj(j  j-j^g  j^^pI  Qf  Arran,  the  Duke  of  Ormond's 
brother,  '  who  had  lost  his  election  had  not  Dr.  South, 
who  was  in  a  manner  bedridden,  made  the  voices  of 
the  Prebendaries  equal,  when  he  was  asked  who  he 
would  vote  for.  Heart  and  soul  for  my  Lord  of  Arran.'  ^ 

1  Chapter  Book,  Feb.  22,  1715.  '  Ordered  that  a  Patent  of  the  High 
Stewardship  of  Westminster  and  St.  Martin  le  Grand  be  now  handed 
to  the  Earl  of  Arran.'  Amongst  the  other  names,  in  a  very  decrepit 
hand,  is  Robert  South,  Senr.  Pra;b.  and  Archdenron.  He  was  present  at 
one  more  Chapter,  but  this  is  his  last  signature. 


UNDER  QUEEN  AXXE.  301 

He  still,  as  '  for  fifty  years,'  was  '  marked  for  his  at- 
tention to  the  service  in  the  Abbey ; '  but  was  at  last 
■'  ^y  old  age  reduced  to  the  infirmity  of  sleeping  at  it.' 
It  was  in  this  state  that  he  roused  himself  to  fire 
off  a  piece  of  his  ancient  wit  against  a  stentorian 
preacher  at  St.  Paul's :  '  the  innocence  of  his  life  giv- 
ing him  a  cheerfulness  of  spu-it  to  rally  his  own  weak- 
ness. Brother  Stentor,  said  he,  for  the  repose  of  the 
Church  hearken  to  Bickerstaff"  [the  Tatler],  'and  con- 
sider that  while  you  are  so  devout  at  St.  Paul's,  we 
cannot  sleep  for  you  at  St.  Peter's.' ^ 

He  died  on  July  8,  1716.  Four  days  after  his  de- 
cease the  corpse  was  laid  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber, 
and  thence  brought  into  the  College  Hall,  DiedJuiys, 
where  a  Latin  oration  was  made  over  it  by  leTine.'^^ 
John  Barber,  Captain  of  the  School.  Thence  it  was 
conveyed  into  the  Abbey,  attended  by  the  whole  Col- 
legiate body,  with  many  of  his  friends  from  Oxford; 
and  the  first  part  of  the  service  immediately  preceded, 
the  second  succeeded,  the  evening  prayers,  with  the 
same  anthem  of  Croft  that  had  been  sung  at  the  funeral 
of  Queen  Anne.^  He  was  then  laid  at  the  side  of 
Busby,  by  the  Dean,  at  his  special  request,  '  reading  the 
burial  office  with  such  affection  and  devotion  as  showed 
his  concern '  for  the  departed.^ 

The  Dean  who  thus  committed  South  to  his  grave 
was  Atterbury,  the  name  which  in  that  office,  Francis 
next  after  Williams,  occupies  the  largest  space  Bishop"^' 
in   connection  with    the   Abbey.      "VVe   have  im-U^'^' 

1  Taller,  No.  61. 

2  A  ludicrous  incident  connects  this  grave  ceremony  with  the  lighter 
traditions  of  the  School.  Barber's  oration  was  pirated  and  published 
by  Carll,  who  in  revenge  was  entrapped  by  the  boys  into  Dean's  Yard, 
whipped,  tossed  in  a  blanket,  and  forced  on  his  knees  to  apologise. 
(Alumni  [Vest.  268.)  3  Life,  p.  6. 


302         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

already,  in  the  account  of  the  Monuments  of  this  pe- 
riod, observed  the  constant  intervention  of  Atterbury's 
influence.-^  We  must  here  touch  on  his  closer  associa- 
tions with  the  Abbey  through  the  Deanery.  He  was 
a  Westminster  scholar,  and  Westminster  student  at 
Christ  Church,  so  that  he  was  no  stranger  to  the  place 
to  which,  in  later  life,  he  was  so  deeply  attached. 

There  was  something  august  and  awful  in  the  Westmin- 
ster elections,  to  see  three  such  great  men  presiding  —  Bishop 
Atterbury  as  Dean  of  Westminster,  Bishop  Smalridge  as 
Dean  of  Christ  Church,  and  Dr.  Bentley  as  Master  of  Trinity  ; 
and  '  as  iron  sharpeneth  iron,'  so  these  three,  by  their  wit, 
learning,  and  liberal  conversation,  whetted  and  sharpened 
one  another.^ 

He  plunged,  with  all  his  ardour,  into  the  antiquarian 
questions  which  his  office  required.  '  Notwithstanding 
His  re-  that  when  he  first  was  obliged  to  search  into 
searches.  ^j^^  Wcstminstcr  Archives,  such  employment 
was  very  dry  and  irksome  to  him,  he  at  last  took  an  in- 
ordinate pleasure  in  it,  and  preferred  it  even  to  Virgil 
and  Cicero.'^ 

He  superintended  with  eagerness  the  improvements 
of  the  Abbey,  as  they  were  then  thought,  which  were 
His  repairs  ^^  progrcss.  The  great  North  Porch  received 
of tbe  Abbey,  j^jg  pgc^iiar  care.  The  great  rose  window  in 
it,  curiously  combining  faint  imitations  of  mediaeval 
figures  with  the  Protestant  Bible  in  the  centre,  was  his 
latest  interest.  There  is  a  charming  tradition  that  he 
stood  by,  complacently  watching  the  workmen  as  they 
hewed  smooth  the  fine  old  sculptures  over  Solomon's 

1  Chapter  IV.  pp.  73,  80,  121,  122,  123. 

2  Life  of  Bishop  Newton. 

8  Spectator,  No.  447  ;  Letters,  ii.  157. 


UNDER   QUEEN  ANNE.  303 

Porch,  which  the  nineteenth  century  vainly  seeks  to 
recall  to  their  vacant  places. 

His  sermons  in  Westminster  were  long  re-  Hispreach- 
membered :  —  ^"' 

The  Dean  we  heard  the  other  day  together  is  an  orator. 
He  has  so  much  regard  to  his  congregation,  that  he  commits 
to  his  memory  what  he  is  to  say  to  them  ;  and  has  so  soft 
and  graceful  a  hebaviour,  that  it  must  attract  your  attention. 
His  person,  it  is  to  he  confessed,  is  no  small  recommendation ; 
hut  he  is  to  be  highly  commended  for  not  losing  that  advan- 
tage, and  adding  to  the  propriety  of  speech  (which  might 
pass  the  criticism  of  Longinus)  au  action  which  would  have 
been  approved  by  Demosthenes.  He  has  a  peculiar  force 
in  his  way,  and  has  many  of  his  audience  who  could  not 
be  intelligent  hearers  of  his  discourse,  were  there  not  ex- 
planation as  well  as  grace  in  his  action.  This  art  of  his  is 
used  with  the  most  exact  and  honest  skill ;  he  never  attempts 
your  passions,  until  he  has  convinced  your  reason.  All  the 
objections  which  he  can  form  are  laid  open  and  dispersed, 
before  he  uses  the  least  vehemence  in  his  sermon ;  but  when 
he  thinks  he  has  your  head,  he  very  soon  wins  your  heart ; 
and  never  pretends  to  show  the  beauty  of  holiness,  untd  he 
hath  convinced  you  of  the  truth  of  it.^ 

In  the  School  he  at  once  became  interested  through 
his  connection  with  the  Headmaster.  'I  envy  Dr. 
Freind,'  writes  Dean  Swift  to  his  brother  Dean, '  that 
he  has  you  for  his  inspector,  and  I  envy  you  for  having 
such  a  person  in  your  district  and  whom  you  love  so 
well.  Shall  not  I  have  the  liberty  to  be  sometimes  a 
third  among  you,  though  I  am  but  an  Irish  Dean  ? '  ^ 

1  Tatler,  vol.  ii.  (No.  66),  p.  116.  The  sermons  on  Matt.  vi.  34, 
Acts  xxvi.  26,  1  Pet.  ii.  21,  Acts  i.  3,  Mark  xvi.  20,  were  preached  'at 
Westminster  Abbey.'     (Sermons,  ii.  265  ;  iii.  3-221.) 

2  Swift's  Works,  xvi.  55. 


304         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

This  concern  in  the  School  has  been  commemorated 
in  a  memorial  familiar  to  every  Westminster  scholar. 
His  interest    Down  to  liis  time  the  Dormitory  of  the  School 

in  the  '' 

School  had  been,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  old  Granary 
of  the  Convent,  on  the  west  side  of  Dean's  Yard.  The 
The  New  wcar-and-tear  of  four  centuries,  which  included 
Dormitory,  ^^xq  rougli  usagc  of  many  generations  of  school- 
boys, had  rendered  this  venerable  building  quite  unfit 
for  its  purposes.  The  gaping  roof  and  broken  windows, 
which  freely  admitted  rain  and  snow,  wind  and  sun  ;  the 
beams,  cracked  and  hung  with  cobwebs ;  the  cavernous 
walls,  with  many  a  gash  inflicted  by  youthful  Dukes 
and  Earls  in  their  boyish  days  ;  the  chairs,  scorched  by 
many  a  fire,  and  engraven  deep  with  many  a  famous 
name  ^  —  provoked  alternately  the  affection  and  the 
1713.  derision   of    Westminster   students.     At   last 

^  ^^'  the  day  of  its  doom  arrived.     Again  and  again 

the  vigorous  Dean  raised  the  question  of  its  rebuilding 
in  the  College  Garden.  He  and  his  friends  in  the 
Chapter  urged  its  '  ruinous  condition,'  its  '  liability  to 
mob  ; '  the  temptations  to  which,  from  its  situation,  the 
scholars  were  every  day  exposed ;  the  '  great  noise  and 
hurry,'  and  the  '  access  of  disorderly  and  tumultuous 
persons.'  ^  The  plan  was  constantly  frustrated  by  the 
natural  reluctance  of  those  Prebendaries  whose  houses 
abutted  on  the  garden,  and  who  feared  that  their  pri- 
vacy would  be  invaded.  The  question  was  tried  in  Chan- 
cery, and  carried  on  appeal  to  the  House  of  Lords.  There, 
partly  no  doubt  by  Atterbury's  influence,  an  order  was 
procured  that  '  every  member  of  the  Chapter,  absent  or 
present,  should  give  their  opinion,  either  viva  voce  or  in 

1  Lusus  Alteri  West.  i.  pp.  45,  280,  281,  282. 

2  Chapter  Book,  Jan.  3,  1713;  Dec.  18  and  Dec.  29,  1718;  April  4, 
1721;  and  March  2,  1718  (19). 


UNDER   QUEEN  ANNE.  305 

writing,  which  place  they  think  the  most  proper  to  build 
a  new  Dormitory  in,  either  the  common  gar- 
den, or  where  the  old  Dormitory  stands.' ^ 
After  a  debate,  which  has  left  the  traces  of  its  fierce- 
ness in  the  strongly-expressed  opinions  of  both  parties, 
each  doubtless  coloured  by  the  local  feelings  of  the  com- 
batants, it  was  carried,  by  the  vote  of  the  Dean,  in 
favour  of  rebuilding  it  in  the  garden.  The  original 
plan  had  been  to  erect  it  on  the  eastern  side ;  ^  but  it 
was  ultimately  placed  where  it  now  stands,  on  the  west. 
Wren  designed  a  plan  for  it,^  which  was  in  1722. 
great  part  borrowed  by  Lord  Burlington,  who,  i73o. 
as  architect,  laid  the  first  stone  in  the  very  next  year; 
and  it  proceeded  slowly,  till  in  1730  it  w^as  for  the  first 
time  occupied.  The  generation  of  boys  to  which  Wel- 
bore  Ellis,  Lord  Mendip,  belonged,  slept  in  both  Dor- 
mitories.* The  old  building  remained  till  1758.^  The 
new  one  became  the  scene  of  all  the  curious  customs 
and  legends  of  the  College  from  that  day  to  this,  and, 
in  each  successive  winter,  of  the  'Westminster  Play 
of  Terence  or  Plautus.^ 

But,  long  before  the  completion  of  the  work  Atterbury 
had  been  separated  from  his  beloved  haunts. 

_         .  .  .  His  fall. 

In  that  separation  Westmmster  bore  a  large 

part.     A  remarkable  prelude  to  it  has  been  well  de- 


1  Chapter  Book,  April  4,  1721. 

2  Ibid.  March  3,  1718  (19).  The  nndermaster's  house  was  to  have 
been  at  the  south  end.  When  this  plan  was  changed,  the  space  was 
left  waste  till  occupied  by  the  present  sanatorium. 

3  This  remains  in  All  Souls'  Library. 

*  Alumni  West.  pp.  277,  300 ;  Lusus  West.  i.  p.  57. 

^  See  a  picture  of  it  of  that  date,  prefixed  to  Alumni  Westmonas- 
terienses :  also  in  Getit.  ^farj.   [Sept.  181.5],  p.  201. 

<*  See  the  description  of  the  Theatre  of  earlier  days  in  Lusus  West. 
ii.  29. 

VOL.  II.  —  20 


306         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

scribed  by  an  eyewitness,^  a  printer  concerned  in  the 
issue  of  a  book  by  a  clergyman  reflecting  on  the  charac- 
ter of  some  nobleman :  — 

The  same  night,  my  master  hiring  a  coach,  we  were  driven 
to  Westminster,  where  we  entered  into  a  large  sort  of  monas- 
Scene  in  the  ^^^  building.  Soon  were  we  ushered  into  a  spacious 
College  HaU.  hall,  where  we  sate  near  a  large  table,  covered  with 
an  ancient  carpet  of  curious  work,  and  whereon  was  soon 
laid  a  bottle  of  wine  for  our  entertainment.  In  a  little  time 
we  were  visited  by  a  grave  gentleman  in  a  black  lay  habit, 
who  entertained  us  with  one  pleasant  discourse  or  other.  He 
bid  us  be  secret ;  '  for,'  said  he,  '  the  imprisoned  divine  does 
not  know  who  is  his  defender  ;  if  he  did,  I  know  his  temper ; 
in  a  sort  of  transport  he  would  reveal  it,  and  so  I  should  be 
blamed  for  my  good  office ;  and,  whether  his  intention  was 
designed  to  show  his  gratitude,  yet,  if  a  man  is  hurt  by  a 
friend,  the  damage  is  the  same  as  if  done  by  an  enemy;  to 
prevent  which  is  the  reason  I  desire  this  concealment.'  '  You 
need  not  fear  me,  sir,'  said  my  master ;  '  and  I,  good  sir, 
added  I,  '  you  may  be  less  afraid  of ;  for  I  protest  I  do  not 
know  where  I  am,  much  less  your  person  ;  nor  heard  where  I 
should  be  driven,  or  if  I  shall  not  be  drove  to  Jerusalem 
before  I  get  home  again;  nay,  I  shall  forget  I  ever  did  the 
job  by  to-morrow,  and,  consequently,  shall  never  answer  any 
questions  about  it,  if  demanded.  Yet,  sir,  T  shall  secretly  re- 
member your  generosity,  and  drink  to  your  health  with  this 
brimful  glass.'  Thereupon,  this  set  them  both  a-laughing ; 
and  truly  I  was  got  merrily  tipsy,  so  merry  that  I  hardly 
knew  how  I  was  driven  homewards.  For  my  part,  I  was 
ever  inclined  to  secresy  and  fidelity ;  and,  therefore,  I  was 
nowise  inquisitive  concerning  our  hospitable  entertainer ;  yet 
I  thought  the  imprisoned  clergyman  was  happy,  though  he 
knew  it  not,  in  having  so  illustrious  a  friend,  who  privately 

1  Life  of  Mr.  Thomas  Gent,  p.  88.     A  slightly  different  version  is 
given  in  Davies's  Memoir  of  the  York  Press,  149. 


UNDER  THE  HANOVERIAN  DYNASTY.     o07 

strove  for  his  releasement.  But,  happening  afterwards  to  be- 
hold a  state-prisoner  in  a  coach,  guarded  from  Westminster 
to  the  Tower,  God  bless  me,  thought  I,  it  was  no  less  than  the 
Bishop  of  Rochester,  Dr.  Atterbury,  by  whom  my  master  and 
I  had  been  treated  !  Then  came  to  my  mind  his  every  feat- 
ure, but  then  altered  through  indisposition,  and  grief  for  be- 
ing under  royal  displeasure.  Though  I  never  approved  the 
least  thing  whereby  a  man  might  be  attainted,  yet  I  generally 
had  compassion  for  the  unfortunate.  I  was  more  confirmed 
it  was  he,  because  I  heard  some  people  say  at  that  visit  that 
we  were  got  into  Dean's  Yard ;  and,  consequently,  it  was  his 
house,  though  I  then  did  not  know  it;  but  afterwards  learned 
that  the  Bishop  of  Rochester  was  always  Dean  of  Westmin- 
ster. I  thanked  God  from  my  heart  that  we  had  done  noth- 
ing of  offence,  at  that  time,  on  any  political  account  —  a 
thing  that  produces  such  direful  consequences. 

It  was  from  the  Deanery  that  Atterbury  prepared  to 
go  in  lawn-sleeves,  on  Queen  Anne's  death,  and  proclaim 
James  III.  at  Charing  Cross.^     '  Never,'  he  exclaimed, 
'  was  a  better  cause  lost  for  want  of  spirit.'     On  the 
staircase  of  the  Deanery  his  son-in-law  ]\lorrice  jacowte 
met  Walpole  leaving  the  house.^     Atterbury  ?}eane?yf  ® 
received  him  with  the  tidings  that  the  Minis-  ^""^  ^^^^' 
ter  had  just  made,  and  that  he  had  just  refused,  the 
tempting  offer  of  the  particular  object  of  his  ambition,^ 
the  See  of  Winchester  (with  £5,000  a  year  till  it  be- 
came vacant),  and  the  lucrative  office  of  a  Tellership  in 
the  Exchequer  for  his  son-in-law.     Another  visitor  came 
with  more  success.     The  Westminster  scholars,  as  they 

1  Coxe's  Walpole,  i.  167. 

2  Atterbury  Papers;  His  Memoir,  by  the  Rev.  E.  Morrice,  pp.  11,12. 

3  It  was  suspected  that  he  looked  higher  still.  '  He  had  a  view  of 
Lambeth  from  Westminster.'  That  was  a  great  temptation  [Calamy's 
Life,  ii.  270). 


308        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

played  and  walked  in  Dean's  Yard,  had  watched  the 
long  and  frequent  calls  of  the  Earl  of  Sunderland. ^  In 
the  Deanery,  in  spite  of  his  protestations,  we  must  be- 
lieve his  conspiracy  to  have  been  carried  on.  '  Is  it 
possible,'  he  asked,  in  his  defence  before  the  House  of 
Lords,  '  that  when  I  was  carrying  on  public  buildings 
of  various  kinds  at  Westminster  and  Bromley,  when  I 
was  consulting  all  the  books  of  the  church  of  Westmin- 
ster from  the  foundation  .  .  .  that  I  should  at  the 
very  time  be  directing  and  carrying  on  a  conspiracy  ? 
Is  it  possible  that  I  should  hold  meetings  and  consulta- 
tions to  form  and  foment  this  conspiracy,  and  yet  no- 
body living  knows  luhen,  ivhcrc,  and  vjith  whom  they  were 
held  ?  —  that  I,  who  always  lived  at  home,  and  never 
(when  in  the  Deanery)  stirred  out  of  one  room,  where  I 
received  all  comers  promiscuously,  and  denied  not  my- 
self to  any,  should  have  opportunities  of  enacting  such 
matters  ? '  ^  In  answer  to  these  questions,  a  vague  tra- 
dition murmured  that  behind  the  wall  of  that  *  one 
room,'  doubtless  the  Library,  there  was  a  secret  cham- 
ber, in  which  these  consultations  might  have  been  held. 
In  1864,  on  the  removal  of  a  slight  partition,  there  was 
Atterbury's  fo^ud  a  long  empty  closet,  behind  the  fireplace, 
hiding-place,  jgached  by  a  rude  ladder,  perfectly  dark,  and 
capable  of  holding  eight  or  ten  persons,  but  which,  as 
far  back  as  the  memory  of  the  inmates  of  the  Deanery 
extended,  had  never  been  explored.^  It  had  probably 
been  built  for  this  purpose  in  earlier  times,  against  the 
outer  wall  (which  still  remains  intact)  of  the  antecham- 
ber to  the  old  Refectory.     In  this  chamber,  which  may 

1  Bishop  Newton's  Life,  ii.  20.  ^  Letters,  ii.  158. 

3  The  venerable  Bishop  Short  (of  St.  Asaph),  who  knew  the  house 
well  in  the  time  of  his  uncle,  Dean  Ireland,  assured  me  that  there  was 
at  that  time  no  suspicion  of  its  existence. 


UNDER  THE  HANOVERIAN  DYNASTY.    309 

have  harboured   the  conspiracy  of  Abbot   Colchester 
against  Henry  IV.,  it  is  probable  that  Atterbury  was 
concealed  in-  plotting  against  George  I.^     It  was  in  one 
of  the  long  days  of  August,  w^hen  he  had  somewhat  re- 
luctantly come  to  London  for  the  funeral  of  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough,  that  he  was  sitting  in  the  Deanery  in 
his  nightgown,  at  the  hour  of  '  two  in  the  afternoon  ' 
—  a  very  unusual  hour,  one  must  suppose,  for  such  a 
dress  —  when  the  Government  officers  came  ^^^g^,.  ^j. 
to  arrest  him ;  '  and  though  they  behaved  with  iugiLst^22' 
some  respect  to  him,  they  suffered  the  messen-  ^^^^* 
gers  to  treat  him  in  a  very  rough  manner  —  threatening 
him,  if  he  did  not  make  haste  to  dress  himself,  that 
they  would  carry  him  away  undrest  as  he  was.'  ^ 

Atterbury's  defence  and  trial  belong  to  the  history 
of  England.  We  here  follow  his  fall  only  by  its  traces 
in  Westminster.  The  Chapter,  deprived  of  their  head, 
had  to  arrange  their  afi'airs  without  him.  The  Subdean 
and  Chapter  Clerk  were,  by  an  order  from  the 

^  .  Dec.  22. 

Secretary  of  State,  admitted  at  the  close  of 
the  year  to  an  interview  with  him  in  the  Tower,  in  the 
presence  of  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower.^  Early  in  the 
following  year  he,  by  a  special  act, '  divers  good  causes 
and  considerations  him  thereto  moving,'  appointed  the 
Subdean  to  transact  business  in  Chapter, '  in  as  full  and 
ample  a  manner  as  he  himself  could  do  or  perform  if 

^  Here  also  Dr.  Fiddes  may  have  been  '  entertained '  with  materials, 
matter,  and  method  for  his  'Life  of  Wolsey,'  as  their  enemies  sug- 
gested, thus  '  laying  a  whole  plan  for  forming  such  a  life  as  might 
blacken  the  Reformation,  cast  lighter  colours  upon  Popery,  and  even 
make  way  for  a  Popish  pretender.'  (Dr.  I\Jiight's  Life,  of  Erasmus: 
Fiddes's  Answer  to  Britanm'cus,  1728.) 

2  Bio(j.  Brit.  i.  272.     See  Chapter  IV. 

3  Warrant  from  the  Records  of  the  Tower,  Dec.  22,  1722.  Com- 
municated by  the  kindness  of  Lord  De  Ros. 


810         THE  ABBEY  SINCE  THE  REFORMATION. 

present  in  Chapter.'  ^  During  the  time  of  his  imprison- 
ment, he  was  still  remembered  in  his  old  haunts 
(whether  in  the  Abbey  or  not,  is  doubtful),  being 
prayed  for  under  pretence  of  being  afflicted  with  the 
gout,  in  most  churches  in  London  and  Westminster.^ 
After  his  trial,  his  last  wish,  which  was  denied  to  him, 
was  to  walk  from  the  House  of  Lords  tlirough  the  Abbey 
and  see  the  great  rose-window  which  Dickinson  the 
surveyor  had  put  up,  in  the  beginning  of  the  previous 
year,  under  his  direction,  in  the  North  Transept.^  The 
"Westminster  election  was  going  on  at  the  time,  and  the 
Westminster  scholars  came  afterwards,  as  usual,  to  see 
'  the  Dean '  —  in  the  Tower.  It  was  then  that  he 
quoted  to  them  the  last  two  lines  of  his  favourite 
'  Paradise  Lost '  — 

The  world  is  all  before  me,  where  to  choose 
My  place  of  rest  —  and  Providence  my  guide.* 

He  embarked  immediately  after  from  the  Tower  in  a 
'  navy  barge.'  Two  footmen  in  purple  liveries  walked 
behind.  He  himself  was  in  a  lay  habit  of  gray  cloth. 
The  river  was  crowded  with  boats  and  barges.  The 
Duke  of  Grafton  presented  him  with  a  rich  sword,  witli 
the  inscription,  '  Draw  me  not  without  reason.  Put  me 
not  up  without  honour.'  ^  The  Chapter  meantime  were 
sitting  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  still  fighting  for  the 
payments  of  moneys,  disputed  by  their  late  imperious 
master,  even  at  these  last  moments  of  departure.^ 
They  afterwards  gained  a  poor  revenge  by  reclaiming 
all  the  perquisites  of  George  I.'s  coronation  and  of  Marl- 
borough's funeral,  which  he,  tenacious  of  power  to  the 

1  Chapter  Book,  April  17,  1723. 

2  Coxe's  Walpole,  i.  170.  ^  Akerman,  ii.  3. 

*  See  Chapter  IV.  ^  Hearne's  Relicjuloe,  498. 

«  Chapter  Book,  June  18,  1723. 


UNDER  THE  HANOVERIAN  DYNASTY.     311 

end,  had  carried  off.^  '  The  Aldborough  man  of  war, 
which  lay  in  Long  Reach,  took  the  Bishop.  Another 
vessel  carried  his  books  and  baggage.'  ^  His  '  goods ' 
were  sold  at  the  Deanery,  and  '  came  to  an  extraordinary 
good  market,  some  things  selling  for  three  or  four  times 
the  value  —  a  great  many  of  his  Lordship's  friends  be- 
ing desirous  to  have  something  in  remembrance  of 
him.' 

His  interest,  however,  in  the  Abbey  and  School  never 
flagged.  He  still  retained  in  exile  a  lively  recollection 
of  his  enemies  in  the  Chapter.     He  was  much  His  exiie, 

June  IS, 

concerned  at  the  death  of  his  old  but  ungrate-  n^i. 
ful  friend,  the  Chapter  Clerk.^     The  controversy  as  to 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  Westminster  Burgesses  pursued 
him  to  Montpellier.'^     The  plans  of  the  Dor-  Death  of  ws 
mitory  'haunted  his  mind  still,  and  made  an  no\° 8,1729; 

buried  Feb. 

impression  upon   him.  °     The  verses  of   the  21, 1730. 
Westminster  scholars  on  the  accession  of    George  II. 
were  sent  out  to  him.^     His  son-in-law.  Dr.  Morrice, 
long  kept  the  office  of  High  Bailiff.^     He  busied  him- 
self, as  of  old,  in  the  Westminster  epitaphs.^     When  at 
last  he  died  at  Paris,^  his  body  was  brought,  '  on  board 
the  ship  Moore,'  from  Dieppe,  to  be  interred  His  death 
in  the  Abbey.     The  coffin  was  searched  at  the  ^3*^2';^ and 
custom-house,  nominally  for  lace,  really  for  MayT2,' 
treasonable  papers.     The  funeral  took  place  at    '  "" 
night,  in  the  most  private  manner.     He  had  long  before 
caused  a  vault  to  be  made,  as  he  expressed  it,  *  for  me 

1  Chapter  Book,  Jan.  28,  1723-24. 

2  Weeklij  Journal,  March  15,  1723.  3  Letters,  iv.  135,  136. 
*  Ibid.  iv.  202,  211.  5  ibid.  iv.  214,  221. 

6  Ibid.  iv.  219.  "^  Ibid.  iv.  270,  296. 

8  See  Chapter  IV. 

9  In  the  Mural  Book,  copied  from  the  plate,  it  is  Feb.  22. 


312        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

and  mine,'  '  not  in  the  Abbey,  because  of  my  dislike  to 
the  place ;  but  at  the  west  door  of  it,  as  far  from  Kings 
and  Caesars '  (at  the  eastern  extremity)  '  as  the  space 
will  admit  of.'  ^  In  this  vault  had  already  been  in- 
terred his  youngest  daughter  Elizabeth,  and  his  wife, 
before  his  exile,  and  his  best  beloved  daughter  Mary, 
who  died  in  his  arms  at  Toulouse,  and  whose  remains, 
in  spite  of  the  long  and  difficult  journey,  were  conveyed 
hither.  By  her  side  his  own  coffin  was  laid,  with  the 
simple  inscription  of  his  name  and  title,  and  the  dates 
of  his  birth  and  death,  and  on  the  urn  containing  his 
heart :  —  'In  hac  urna  depositi  sunt  cineres  Francisci 
Atterbury,  Episcopi  Eoffensis.'  A  monument  was  talked 
of,  but  never  erected.^  He  had  himself  added  a 
political  invective,  which  was  not  permitted  to  be 
inscribed.^ 

1  Atterbury  Papers,  April  6,  1772.     (Williams's  Atterbun/,  i.  373.) 

2  Letters,  i.  485.  The  vault  was  seen  in  1877.  The  coflius  of  the 
Bishop  and  Mrs.  Morrice  rested  on  the  two  earlier  ones.  They  were 
evidently  of  foreign  make,  the  interval  between  the  lead  and  the  wood 
was  in  that  of  his  daughter  stuffed  with  straw,  evidently  for  the  long 
journey ;  in  his  own,  the  straw  was  gone,  probably  thrown  away  when 
the  coffin  was  searched  at  the  Custom  House. 

»  Letters  i.  362  :  — 

NATC8   MARTn   VI.    MBCLXn. 

IN   CARCEREM   CONJECTUS   AUG.   XXIV.    MBCCXXn. 

NONO   POST   MENSE   IN   JUDICIUM    ADDUCTUS 

NOVOQDE   CRIMINUM    ET   TESTIUM   GENERE 

IMPETITUS 

ACTA   DEIN   PER    SEPTIDUUM   CAUSA 

ET   EVERSIS 

TUM  VrVENTrtTM   TUM   MORTUORUM  TESTIMONHS, 

NE  DEESSET   LEX,   QUA   PLECTI  POSSET, 

tATA  EST  TANDEM   MAII   XXVII.  MDCCXXIH. 

CAVETE   POSTERI  I 

HOC   FACINORIS 

CONSCIVIT,   AGGRESSUS    EST,    PERPETRAVTT, 

EPISCOPORUM    PR^CIPUE   SUFFRAGIIS   ADJUTUS, 

ROBERTUS   ISTE   WALPOLE 

QDEM   NULLA   NESCIET   POSTERITAS. 

Epitaphs  on  Atterbury  were  composed  by  Samuel  Wesley  and  Crull 
(See  Williams's  Atterbury,  ii.  468,  469.) 


ATTERBURT.  313 

The  influences  which  Atterbury  had  fostered  long 
lingered  in  the  Precincts.  The  house  of  the  Under- 
master  is  inscribed  with  the  name  of  Walter  Titley,  who 
was  preceptor  to  Atterbury's  son  in  the  Deanery  at  the 
time  of  the  Bishop's  arrest,  and  who,  after  many  years 
spent  in  the  diplomatic  service  in  Copenhagen,  left 
£1,000  to  the  School,  with  which  the  Chapter 
restored  this  house.  Samuel  Wesley,  elder  "^  esejs. 
brother  of  John  and  Charles,  who  inherited  his  mother's 
strong  Jacobite  tendencies,  was  attracted  to  a  master- 
ship at  Westminster  by  his  friendship  for  Atterbury ; 
and  in  his  house  was  nurtured  his  brother  Charles, 
*  the  sweet  Psalmist '  of  the  Church  of  those  days  — 
who  went  from  thence  as  a  W^estminster  student  to 
Christ  Church.  1 

The  name  of  Atterbury  makes  it  necessary  to  pause 
at  this  point,  to  sum  up  the  local  reminiscences  of  the 
ecclesiastical  assemblies  of  the  English  Church,  of 
which  Westminster  has  been  the  scene.  We  rj-^e  convo- 
have  already  traced  the  connection  of  St.  Cath-  ^'estmin- 
erine's  Chapel  with '  The  Councils  of  Westmin-  ^^^'^' 
ster '  —  of  the  Abbey  itself  with  the  great  Elizabethan 
Conference,  and  of  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  with  the 
meeting  of  the  Presbyterian  divines  under  the  Common- 
wealth. It  remains  for  us  to  point  out  the  growth  of 
the  local  association  which  has  been  gradually  formed 
with  the  more  regular  body,  known  as  the  '  Convocation 
of  the  Province  of  Canterbury.' 

The  convenience,  no  doubt,  of  proximity  to  the  Palace 
of  W^estminster,  the  seat  of  Parliament,  of  which  the 
Convocations   of   Canterbury  and  York  were  the  sup- 

1  Southey's  L!fe  of  Wesley,  i.  19.  — A  special  boarding-house  for 
the  reception  of  the  sons  of  Nonjurins:  parents  was  kept  at  that  time 
by  a  clergyman  of  the  name  of  Russell. 


314         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   EEFORMATION. 

plement,  would  naturally  have  pointed  to  the  Abbey. 
But  the  Primate  doubtless  preferred  to  avoid 

Original  seat  ^ 

of  the  Con-    ^lie  Questiou    of   the   exempt   iurisdiction   of 

vocation  at  -"^  l        o 

St.  Paiirs.  Westminster,  and  the  clergy  did  not  care  to  be 
drawn  thither  either  by  the  Archbishop  or  the  King.^ 

Accordingly,  whilst  the  Convocation  of  York  has 
always  been  assembled  in  the  Chapter  House  of  York 
Minster,  the  proper  seat  of  the  Convocation  of  Canter- 
bury is  the  Chapter  House  of  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul's. 
There  the  Bishops  assembled  in  the  raised  chamber,  and 
the.  inferior  clergy  in  the  crypt  beneath.  From  this 
local  .arrangement  have  been  derived  the  present  names 
of  '  the  Upper '  and  '  Lower  House.'  There  they  met 
throughout  the  Middle  Ages.  There  the  Prolocutor  is 
still  elected,  and  thence  the  apparitor  comes  who  waits 
upon  them  elsewhere. 

The  change  at  last  arose  out  of  the  great  feud  between 
the  southern  and  northern  Primacies,  which  had  cost 
Transference  Bccket  hls  life,  and  whlch  had  caused  so  many 
minster.  hcartbumings  at  the  Coronations,  and  such  vi- 
olent contentions  in  St.  Catherine's  Chapel.^  The  trans- 
fer of  the  Convocation  from  St.  Paul's  to  Westminster 
Under  i^  the  memorial  of  the  one  moment  of  English 

woisey  1523.  jjjg^Qj-y  whcn,  in  the  pre-eminent  grandeur  of 
of  Woisey,  the  See  of  York  triumphed  over  the  See  of 
Canterbury.  Woisey,  as  Legate,  convened  his  own 
Convocation  of  York  to  London  ;  ^  and  in  order  to  vindi- 
cate their  rights  from  any  jurisdiction  of  the  Southern 
Primate,  and  also  that  he  might  have  them  nearer  to 

1  Wake's  State  of  the  Church,  p.  42. 

2  See  Chapters  II.  and  V.  The  rivalry  between  the  Sees  of  St. 
Andrews  and  Glasfjow,  in  like  manner,  prevented  for  many  years  the 
convocation  of  any  Scottish  Councils. 

^  Wake,  p.  392,  App.  p.  317  ,  Joyce's  English  Sijnods,  p.  297. 


THE  CONVOCATION  OF  CANTERBURY.  31-5 

him  at  his  palace  of  Whitehall,!  they  met,  with  the 
Canterbury  Convocation,  under  his  Legatine  authority, 
in  the  neutral  and  independent  ground  of  the  Abbey  of 
Westminster.  It  was  in  allusion  to  this  transference, 
by  the  intervention  of  the  great  Cardinal,  that  Skelton 

sang: 

Gentle  Paul,  lay  down  thy  sword, 

For  Peter  of  Westminster  hath  shaved  thy  beard.^ 

A  strong  protest  was  made  against  the  irregularity  of 
the  removal :  but  the  convenience  being  once  felt,  and 
the  charm  once   broken,   the   practice  was   continued 
after  Wolsey's  fall.     Convocation,  till  the  dissolution 
of  the  monastery,  met  at  Westminster,  usually  in  the 
ancient  Chapter  House,  where   the  Abbot,  on  bended 
knees,  protested  (as  the  Deans  in  a  less  reverent  posture 
since)  against  the  intrusion.     It  was  that  very  Actofsub- 
submission  to  Wolsey's  alleged  illegal  author-  March  31. 
ity  as  Legate  which  laid  the  clergy  open  to  the  cifapter*'^^ 
penalties  of  Prasmunire  ;  and  thus,  by  a  singu-     °"'''^' 
lar  chance,  in  the  same  Chapter  House  where  they  had 
placed   themselves  within   this   danger,   they   escaped 
from  it  by  acknowledging  the  Royal  Supremacy .^     On 
the  occasion  of   the  appointment   of   the   thirty-two* 
Commissioners  to  revise  the  Canon  Law,  it  juiy7_io 
assembled  first  in  St.  Catherine's  and  then  St.  ^^*^- 
Dunstan's  Chapel.^     When    both   Convocations^  were 
called  to  sanction  the  dissolution  of  Henry's  marriage 
with  Anne  of  Cleves,  they  met  in  the  Chapter  House. 
Both  Primates  were  present.     Gardiner  expounded  the 
case,  and  the  next  day  they  '  publicly  and  unanimously, 

1  Strype's  E.  M.  i.  74-76. 

2  Skelton's  Poems.     See  Chapter  V. 

3  Wilkins,  iii.  724,  746,  762.     On  that  occasion  Latimer  '  kneeled 
down  '  in  the  Chapter  House  and  recanted.     (Ibid.  247.) 

*  Ibid.  749.  6  See  Chapter  V.  «  Wilkins,  749. 


316         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

not  one  disagreeing,'  declared  it  null.  From  that  time 
onwards,  the  adjournment  from  St.  Paul's  to  the  Precincts 
of  Westminster  has  gradually  become  fixed,  but  always 
on  the  understanding  that  '  the  Convocation  is  obliged 
to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  Westminster,  and  not  to 
the  Archbishop,  for  their  convenient  accommodation 
in  that  church.'  ^  The  history  of  the  Convocations 
under  the  reigns  of  Edward  and  Mary  is  too  slight  to 
give  us  any  certain  clue  to  the  place  of  their  assembling. 
But  after  the  accession  of  Elizabeth,  we  find 

Under 

Elizabeth,      that  (in  1563)  the  Bishops  met.^in  the  Chapel 

Jan.  9-April  ^  ^  ■■■  '■ 

luHeM  °^  Henry  VII.,  sometimes  'secretly,'  Dean 
ciVafei  Goodman  making  the  usual  protest.^  The 
cha'Ieis  of  Lower  House  were  placed  either  in  a  chapel 
it'  illdlew'^  on  the  south  side  of  the  Abbey,  apparently  the 
Consistory'  ' Cousistopy  Court,' ^  or  in  the  Chapel  of  St. 
TheThirty-  Johu  and  St.  Andrew  on  the  north,^  which 
jan'^^2-29r'  camc  to  bc  called  '  the  Convocation  House ; '  ^ 
under.james  *  sitting  amougst  the  tombs,'  as  on  one  occasion 
I.,  1603.  Fuller  describes  them,  '  as  once  one  of  their 
Prolocutors  said  of  them,  viva  cadaver  a  inter  mortvos,  as 
having  no  motion  or  activity  allowed  them."^  Of  these 
meetings  little  beyond  mere  formal  records  are  pre- 
served. In  them,  however,  were  signed  the  Thirty- 
nine  Articles.^ 

1  Narrative  of  Proceedings  [1700,  1701],  p.  41. 

2  Gibson,  pp.  150-167. 

•"•  Ibid.  p.   150.  —  He  had  already  made  a  protest  at   St.  Paul's. 
(Ibid.  p.  147.) 

*  'A  vestry.'     (Expedient,  \i.\\.) 

5  Gibson,  pp.  264,  265.     '  A  little  chapel  below  stairs.'     (Expedient, 
p.  11.) 

6  Burial  Register,  Nov.  24,  1671. 

^  Fuller's  Church  History,  a.  d.  1621.     The  erection  of  the  scaffold- 
ing on  these  occasions  is  described  in  Keepe,  p.  180. 
8  Strype's  Parker,  i.  242,  24.3. 


THE  CONVOCATION  OF  CANTERBURY.     317 

The  Convocation  under  James  I.  met  partly  at  St. 
Paul's,  and  partly  at  Westminster.  It  would  seem  that 
its   most  important  act — the   assent   to  the  under 

Charles  I., 

Canons    of    1603  —  was  at  St.  Paul's.^     The  Arm  17- 

May  29, 

first  Convocation  of  whose  proceedings  we  i<>4b. 
have  any  detailed  account  is  the  unhappy  assembly 
under  Charles  I.,  which,  by  its  hasty  and  extravagant 
career,  precipitated  the  fall  both  of  King  and  Clergy,  and 
provoked  the  fury  of  the  populace  against  the  Abbey 
itself.  Both  Houses  met  in  Henry  VIT.'s  Chapel  on 
the  first  day  of  their  assembling,  and  there  heard  a  Latin 
speech  from  Laud  of  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  gravely 
uttered,  '  his  eyes  ofttimes  being  but  one  remove  from 
weeping.' 2  Then  followed  the  questionable  continuance 
of  the  Convocation  after  the  close  of  the  Parliament ; 
the  short-lived  Canons  of  1640;  the  oath,  '  which  had 
its  bowels  puffed  up  with  a  windy  et  cetera  ; '  the  vain 
attempt,  in  these  '  troublesome  times,'  on  the  part  of  a 
worthy  Welshman  to  effect  a  new  edition  of  the  Welsh 
Bible ;  and  finally  the  conflict  between  Laud  and  God- 
frey Goodman,  Bishop  of  Gloucester.  Alone  of  all  the 
dissentients  he  had  the  courage  openly  to  refuse  to  sign 
the  Canons.  '  Whereupon  the  Archbishop  being  present 
with  us  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  was  highly  offended  at 
him.  "  My  Lord  of  Gloucester,"  said  he,  "  I  admonish 
you  to  subscribe ; "  and  presently  after,  "  My  Lord  of 
Gloucester,  I  admonish  you  the  second  time  to  sub- 
scribe;" and  immediately  after,  "I  admonish  you  the 
third  time  to  subscribe."  To  all  which  the  Bishop 
pleaded  conscience,  and  returned  a  denial.'  In  spite  of 
the  remonstrance  of  Davenant,  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  he 


1  Wilkins,  iv.  552-554. 

2  Fuller's  Church  History,  iii.  409. 


318         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

was  committed  to  the  Gatehouse,  and  for  the  first  time 
became  popular. ^ 

In  the  Abbey,  after  the  Eestoration,  the  Convocation 
met  again,  with  the  usual  protest  from  Dean  Earles.^ 
Under  Their  first  occupation  was  the  preparation  of 

Charles  II.,  ^  ^       ^ 

1661,  May  16.  the  Officc  f or  tlic  Baptism  of  Adults,  and  the 
Form  of  Thanksgiving  for  the  29th  of  May.  On  Novem- 
Revision  of  ^^^  ^  •'"  ^^^^  reasscmblcd,  and  entered  on  the 
Book  NoT  grave  task  assigned  to  them  by  the  King  of  re- 
21, 1661.  vising  the  Prayer  Book.  In  fact,  it  had  already 
been  accomplished  by  a  committee  of  Bishops  and  others 
in  the  Great  Hall  of  the  Savoy  Hospital,  and 

Nov    23-27 

therefore  within  a  week  the  revision  was  in 
their  hands,  and  within  a  month  the  whole  was  finished. 
A  few  days  after  the  completion  of  the  larger  part,  the 
Lower  House  was  joined  by  the  unusual  accession  of 

five  deputies  from  the  Northern  Province,  bv 

Dec   5-15.  " 

whose  vote,  under  the  stringent  obligation  of 
forfeiting  all  their  goods  and  chattels,  the  Lower  House 
of  the  Convocation  of  York  bound  itself  to  abide.^     The 

Calendar,  the  Prayers  to  be  used  at  Sea,  the 

Dec.  20. 

Burial  Service,  and  the  Commination  rapidly 
followed.  No  record  remains  of  their  deliberations. 
On  December  20  were  affixed  the  signatures  of  the  four 
Houses,  as  they  now  appear  in  the  Manuscript  Prayer 
In  the         Book.     Tliis   no  doubt  was  in  Henry  VII.'s 

Jerusalem 

Chamber.  Chapel.  But  as  the  Bishops,  by  meeting  there, 
1661-2.'  had  led  the  way  thither  for  the  Assembly  of 
Divines,  so  the  Assembly  of  Divines,  by  meeting  in  the 
Jerusalem  Chamber,  led  the  way  thither  for  the  Bishops. 

1  Fuller's  Church  History.  On  Nov.  4  of  the  same  year  there  was 
'  an  endeavour,  according  to  the  Levitical  laws,  to  cover  the  pit  which 
they  had  opened.'     But  it  was  too  late.     (Heylin's  Laud,  p.  460.) 

2  WUkins,  iv.  564,  565.  »  Ibid.  568,  569. 


THE  COXVOCATIOX  OF  CANTERBURY.    319 

In  that  old  monastic  parlour  the  Upper  House  met,  for 
the  first  time,  on  February  22,  1662,  and  there  received 
the  final  alterations  made  by  Parliament  in  the  Prayer 
Book.  The  attraction  to  the  Chamber  was  still,  as  in  the 
time  of  Henry  IV.,  the  greater  comfort  ^  {pro  meliori  usu) 
and  the  blazing  fire.  From  1665  to  1689  formal  proro- 
gations were  made  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  and  uiKier 

•  Ti  •  ^  1        •■\^     -fr>orv      William  and 

Convocation  did  not  again  assemble  till  1689.  Mary.   xov. 

1  P      1         •  ^  20-Dec.  14, 

Even  if  the  precedent  of  the  important  Con-  lesg. 
vocation  of  1661  had  not  sufficed  for  the  transfer  from 
St.  Paul's  to  AYestminster,  the  great  calamity  which  had 
in  the  interval  befallen  the  ancient  place  of  meeting 
would  have  prevented  their  recurrence  to  it.^  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral  was  but  slowly  rising  from  the  ruins 
of  the  Fire,  and  accordingly,  after  the  appointment  of 
Compton  by  the  Chapter  of  Canterbury  to  fill  the  place 
of  President,  vacant  by  Sancroft's^  suspension,  the 
opening  of  Convocation  took  place  at  Westminster.  A 
table  was  placed  in  the  Chapel  of  Henry  VI T.  Compton 
was  in  the  Chair.  On  his  right  and  left  sate,  in  their 
scarlet  robes,  those  Bishops  who  had  taken  the  oaths 
to  William  and  Mary.  Below  the  table  were  assembled 
the  Clergy  of  the  Lower  House.  Beveridge  preached  a 
Latin  sermon,  in  which  he  warmly  eulogised  the  exist- 
ing system,  and  yet  declared  himself  in  favour  of  a 
moderate  reform.  The  Lower  House  then  proceeded  to 
elect  a  Prolocutor,  and,  in  the  place  of  the  temperate  and 
consistent  Tillotson,  chose  the  fanatical  and  vacillating 
Jane.  On  his  presentation  to  the  President,  he  made 
his  famous  speech  against  all  change,  conclud-  ^^^^  ^ 
ing  with  the  well-known  words  —  taken  from 
the  colours  of  Compton's  regiment  of  horse  —  Nolimus 

1  Gibson,  p.  225.  ^  Macaulay,  iii.  488. 

8  Wilkins,  Cone.  iv.  618. 


320         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

leges  Anglicc  mutari.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that  the 
change  of  place  for  the  Upper  House,  which  had  been 
only  temporary  in  1662,  became  permanent.  '  It  being 
in  the  midst  of  winter,  and  the  Bishops  being  very  few,'  ^ 
they  accepted  of  the  kindness  of  the  Bishop  of  Eoches- 
ter  (Dean  Sprat)  in  accommodating  them  with  a  good 
'room  in  his  house,  called  the  Jerusalem  Chamber; 
and  left  the  lower  clergy  to  sit  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel, 
and  saved  the  trouble  and  charge  of  erecting  seats 
where  they  used  to  meet.'^ 

This  change  was  probably  further  induced  by  the  ex- 
perience that  some  of  the  Bishops  had  already  had  of  the 
Jerusalem  Chamber,  where  they  had  sat  in  the  Commis- 
conimission  siou  for  rcvisiug  the  Liturgy  for  eighteen  ses- 
ofthe  "''  sions  and  six  weeks,  beginning  on  October  3, 
Oct.  3-Nov.    and  ending  on  November  18.    The  Commission 

18   1689 

in  the  '  consisted  of  ten  prelates,  six  deans,  and  six  pro- 
chamber.  fessors.  Amougst  them  were  the  distinguished 
names  of  Tillotson,  Tenison,  Burnet,  Beveridge,  Stilling- 
fleet,  Patrick,  Fowler,  Scott,  and  Aldrich.  Lamplugh, 
Archbishop  of  York,  presided,  m  the  absence  of  Sancroft. 
Sprat,  as  host,  received  them  ;  but  after  the  first  meet- 
ing withdrew,  from  scruples  as  to  its  legality.  Their 
discussions  are  recorded  by  Dr.  Williams,  afterwards 
Bishop  of  Chichester,  who  took  notes  '  every  night  after 
he  went  home.'  The  imperfect  acoustics  of  the  Chamber 
were  felt  even  in  that  small  assembly  ;  '  being  at  some 
distance  at  first,  he  heard  not  the  Bishops  so  well.' 
Their  work,  after  lying  in  the  Lambeth  Library  for  two 
centuries,  was  printed  in  1854  by  order  of  the  House 
of  Commons.     It  was  the  last  attempt  to  improve  the 

1  Gibson,  p.  225. 

2  Expedient  proposed  by  a  Country  Divine  (1702),  p.  11.  Wilkina, 
iv.  620. 


THE  CONVOCATION  OF  CANTERBURY.    321 

Liturgy  and  reconcile  Nonconformists  to  the  National 
Church.  But  from  it  directly  sprang  the  revised  Prayer 
Book  of  the  Protestant  P^piscopal  Church  of  America, 
and  the  remembrance  of  it  will  doubtless  influence  any 
changes  that  may  be  in  store  for  the  English  Liturgy 
itself. 

'In    this    Jerusalem    Chamber,'    writes   one   whose 
spirit  was  always  fired  by  the  thought   of    this   lost 
.opportunity,  'any  new  Commissioners  might  sit  and 
acknowledge  the  genius  of  the  place  '  —  '  kindly  spirits 
whose  endeavours  to  amend    our    Liturgy  might  also 
bring  back  to  the  fold  such  wanderers  as  may  yet  have 
the  inclination  to  join  our  Establishment.'  ^     That  wish 
has  not  yet  been  fulfilled.^     The  Convocation,  Disputes 
which  in  the  winter  of  that  year  succeeded  to  twrmTuses^ 
the  place  of  the  Commissioners,^  was  far  other-  piac'^e  of 
wise  employed  in  the  grave  disputes  between  """^  '°^' 
the  Upper  and  Lower  House.     The  few  Bishops  who  met 
in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  were  unable  to  cope  with  the 
determined  resistance  of  the  Jacobite  majority  of  the 
Lower  House.     'The  change  of  place,  though  merely 
accidental,  made  very  great  alterations  in  the  mode  of 
proceeding  in  Convocation,'  chiefly  turning  on  the  com- 
plications which  ensued  on  adjournments  being  read,  as 

1  Hull's  Church  Inquiry,  p.  241  (1827). 

2  Thus  far  I  had  written  before  July  17,  1867,  when  another  Royal 
Commission,  the  first  that  has  been  appointed  for  the  Revision  of  the 
Prayer  Book  since  the  days  of  Tillotson,  assembled  in  the  Jerusalem 
Chamber  to  examine  the  Ritual  and  Rubric  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. May  the  pious  aspiration  breathed  forty  years  ago  by  that 
venerable  friend  of  Arnold  for  the  happy  result  of  their  labours  be 
fulfilled.  (1867.)  It  has  been  frustrated  by  obstacles  similar  to  those 
raised  in  1689. 

^  See  Narrative  of  Proreedinfjs  of  Lower  House  of  Convorntion,  by 
Hooper  (1701,  1702);  An  Expedient,  by  Binckes  (1701);  The  Pre- 
tended Expedient,  by  Sherlock  (1702J. 

VOL.   II.  —  21 


322        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

from  the  Upper  House,  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  which 
had  now  by  use  become  the  place  of  the  Lower  House. 
There  they  refused  even  to  consider  the  proposals  of 
the  Bishops,  and  were  accordingly  prorogued  till  1700. 
By  that  time  they  were  able  again  to  open  their  meet- 
ing in  the  restored  St.  Paul's.  But  their  discussions 
took  place,  as  before,  in  the  Chamber  and  the  Chapel  at 
Westminster.  There  the  Lower  House,  by  continuing 
their  assemblies  in  the  Chapel  of  Henry  VII.,  as  inde- 
pendent of  the  prorogation  of  the  Bishops, '  inflicted  '  — 
say  the  injured  prelates  — '  the  greatest  blow  to  this 
Church  that  hath  been  given  to  it  since  the  Presby- 
terian Assembly  that  sate  in  Westminster  in  the  late 
times  of  confusion.' 

A  paper,  containing  a  passage  defamatory  of  the 
Bishops,  was  by  their  orders  fixed,  with  a  kind  of 
challenge, '  over  several  doors  in  Westminster  Abbey.'  ^ 
Dispute  in  The  autcroom  '^  to  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  be- 
RiloiiL^*"  came  the  scene  of  angry  chafings  on  the  part 
of  the  Lower  House,  which  had  been  made  to  wait 
there  —  according  to  one  version  a  few  minutes,  accord- 
ing to  another  two  hours  ^  —  whilst  the  Upper  House 
was  discussing  their  petition ;  by  the  insolence  of  the 
Upper  House  according  to  one  version,  by  the  mistake 
of  the  door-keeper  according  to  another.  In  this  small 
antechamber  it  was  that  the  Prolocutor  met 
the  Bishop  of  Bangor  (Evans),  '  putting  on  his 
habit,'  and  said  to  him,  '  My  Lord  of  Bangor,  did  you 
say  in  the  Upper  House  that  I  lied  ? '  ^   To  which  the 

1  History  of  Convocation  in  1700,  p.  7.5. 

2  It  was  then  as  now  called  'the  Organ  Chamber.'  (Ibid.  p.  169.) 
On  one  occasion,  March  7,  1702,  the  Lower  House  met  there  (Card- 
well,  p.  xxxiii.),  after  first  assembling  in  the  Consistory  Court.  (At- 
terburv,  iv.  342,  381.) 

2  History  of  Convocation- in  1700,  p.  110.  *  Ibid.  p.  166. 


THE  CONVOCATION  OF  CANTERBURY.     323 

Bishop  replied  in  some  disorder  —  '  I  did  not  say  you 
lied ;  but  I  said,  or  might  have  said,  that  you  told  me 
a  very  great  untruth.' ^  In  the  Chamber  itself,  the 
Prolocutor  encountered  a  still  more  formidable  antago- 
nist  in  Bishop  Burnet,  fresh  from  reading  the  condem- 
nation of  his  work  by  the  Lower  House.  '  This  is  fine 
indeed;  this  is  according  to  your  usual  insolence.' 
''  Insolence,  my  Lord ! '  said  the  Prolocutor ;  '  do  you  give 
me  that  word  ? '  '  Yes,  insolence  ! '  replied  the  Bishop ; 
'  you  deserve  that  word,  and  worse.  Think  what  you 
will  of  yourself;  I  know  what  you  are.'^  Feb.  12, 
Here  'My  Lord's  grace  of  Canterbury  '  inter-  ^'^^^• 
fered.  On  another  occasion,  after  the  prorogation  had 
been  read  and  signed  in  the  Upper  House,  as  the  clergy 
were  departing  out  of  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  Dr. 
Atterbury,  towards  the  door,  was  pushing  on  some 
members,  and  saying,  '  Away  to  the  Lower  House !  — 
away  to  the  Lower  House  ! '  The  Chancellor  of  London, 
turning  back  to  him,  asked  '  if  he  w^as  not  ashamed  to 
be  always  promoting  contention  and  division  ; '  and  they 
continued  their  altercation  in  still  stronger  language.^ 

It  is  not  necessary  here  to  follow  up  those  altercations 
which  turned  the  Chapel  of  Henry  VII.  and  the  Jerusa- 
lem Chamber  into  two  hostile  camps,  with  the  Organ- 
room  for  an  intermediate  arena  —  the  discussion  of 
Dodwell's  work  on  Baptism,  and  of  Brett's  work  on 
Sacrifice  ;  the  condemnation  of  Bishop  Burnet's  '  Expo- 
sition of  the  Articles,'  and  of  Bishop  Hoadley's  '  Sermon 
on  the  Kingdom  of  Christ;'  of  Whiston's  work  on  the 
•Apostolical  Constitutions;'  of  Clarke's  work  on  the 
'  Scriptural  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity.'  We  can  imagine 
the  fierce  eloquence  of  Atterbury  as  Prolocutor  of  the 

1  History  of  Convocation  in  1700,  p.  204  ;  Narrative,  pp.  67-69. 

2  History  of  Convocation  in  1700,  p.  208.  *  Biog.  Brit.  i.  269- 


324        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

Lower  House  in  Henry  VIT.'s  Chapel ;  and  in  the  Je- 
rusalem Chamber  the  impetuous  vehemence  of  Bur- 
net ;  the  stubborn  silence  of  the  '  old  rock,'  Tenison ; 
the  conciliatory  mildness  of  Wake.  We  can  see  how, 
when  Archbishop  Tenison  suddenly  produced  in  the 
Chamber  the  letter  from  Queen  Anne,  reprimanding 
the  Lower  House,  and  enjoining  the  Archbishop  to 
prorogue  them,  '  they  ran  away  indecently  towards  the 
door,  and  were  with  some  difficulty  kept  in  the  room 
till  the  prorogation  was  intimated  to  them.'  ^  But 
hardly  any  permanent  fruits  remain;^  and,  except  in 
the  allusions  of  innumerable  pamphlets,  hardly  any  rec- 
ord of  the  disputes,  which  were  for  the  most  part 
Prorosxued  hitter  personal  recriminations.  They  were 
mi7i7.  finally  prorogued  in  1717,  and  did  not  meet 
again  for  business  till  our  own  time.^  Formal  citations, 
however,  seem  to  have  brought  them  together  from  time 
to  time  in  the  Abbey  ;  and  on  one  occasion,  in  1742,  an 
attempt  was  made,  by  Archdeacon  Eeynolds,  to  read  a 
paper  on  Ecclesiastical  Courts.  But,  being  of  a  latitudi- 
narian  tendency,  it  was  not  acceptable  to  the  House, 
and  it  was  stopped  by  the  Prolocutor,  who  '  spoke  much 
of  Praemunire,  and  that  word  was  echoed  and  reverber- 
ated from  one  side  of  good  King  Henry's  Chapel  to  the 
other.'  ^ 

The  time  has  not  yet  come  when  we  can  safely  enter 
even  on  the  local  associations  of  the  proceedings  of  the 

1  Burnet's  Own  Time,  ii.  413. 

2  The  only  permanent  result  was  'the  Office  for  Consecrating 
Churches  and  Churchyards,'  sanctioned  by  the  Convocation  of  1711, 
in  consequence  of  the  building  of  fifty  new  churches  in  London  and 
Westminster.     (Burnet's  Own  Time,  ii.  603.) 

3  Wilkins,  iv.  670-676. 

*  Letter  to  Dr.  Lisle,  p.  11:  Reynolds's  Historical  Essays,  p.  207; 
communicated  by  Dr.  Eraser. 


THE   CONVOCATION  OF   CANTERBURY.  325 

Convocation  of  Canterbury,  when  its  discussions  were 
renewed  under  the  administration  of  Lord  Derby.     Its 
formal  openings  took  place,  as  before  and  since,  in  the 
precincts  of  St.  Paul's.     Its  first  meeting  for  Revived 
business  was  on  the  12tli  of  November,  1852,i  is52. 
accompanying  the  Parliament  assembled  for  the  Duke 
■of  Wellington's  funeral.     Sixteen  Bishops  were  present. 
The  proceedings  began,  as  has  been  the  case  ever  since, 
in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  which  was  given  up  to  the 
Lower  House,  after  their  names  had  been  called  over  in 
the  Abbey  ;  the  Upper  House  retiring  to  the  Library  of 
the  Deanery,  the  '  one  room  '  inhabited  by  Atterbury, 
and  at  this  time  vacant  by  the  illness  of  Dean  Buckland. 
In  this   room  the   Prelates  virtually   determined   the 
framework  of  the  future  proceedings  of  the  body  in  an 
animated  discussion  which  lasted  three  days.     At  the 
next   meeting   the   Bishops   occupied    the    Jerusalem 
Chamber,  the  Lower  House  assembling  in  such  scanty 
numbers  as  to   be  accommodated  in  the  Organ-room. 
Subsequently  the  Bishops,  after  a  formal   opening  in 
the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  adjourned  to  the  office  of  Queen 
Anne's  Bounty  in  Dean's  Yard  — leaving  the  Lower 
House    in    the    Jerusalem    Chamber,  as   on  a  former 
occasion  they  had  left  it  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel.     In 
that  historic  Chamber  it  has  sat  without  interruption, 
but  without  any  permanent  fruits.     The  only  exception 
to  its  occupation  of  the  Chamber  has  been  when,  to 
accommodate  a  larger  attendance  (with  the  sanction,  in 
later  days,  of  the  Governors  of  Westminster  School), 
the  College  Hall  has  been  granted  for  that  purpose  by 

the  Dean. 

A  work  of  more  enduring  interest  than  any  decrees 

1  The  scene  of  this  opening,  with  all  its  details,  is  well  described  in 
the  Christian  Remembrancer,  vol.  xxv.  163-187. 


326         THE   ABBEY   SINCE  THE   REFORMATION. 

of  Convocation  lias  been  connected  with  the  Precincts 
of  Westminster.  When  the  royal  commission  was 
issued  by  James  I.  for  the  revision  of  the  previous 
Translation  trausktious  of  the  Bible,  which  issued  in  the 
EnlaU  Authorised  Version  of  1611,  the  translators 
Bible,  icii.  ^gj.g  divided  into  three  companies.  Of  the 
Oxford  and  Cambridge  companies  we  need  not  here 
speak.  But  we  cannot  doubt  that  the  '  Westminster 
Company,'  of  which  the  chief  was  Dean  Andrewes,  met 
under  his  auspices,  probably  in  the  Jerusalem  Cham- 
ber, and  it  is  certain  that  the  Welsh  translation,  which 
immediately  preceded  this,i  was  carried  on  in  the 
Deanery.  The  Dean  at  that  time  (Andrewes'  prede- 
cessor) was  the  Welshman  Gabriel  Goodman.  For  a 
whole  year  his  countryman  Bishop  Morgan,  the  chief 
translator,  was  lodged  at  the  Deanery  (in  preference  to 
an  invitation  which  he  had  received  from  the  Primate), 
on  the  ground  that  at  Lambeth  the  Thames  would  have 
inconveniently  divided  him  from  the  printing-press. 

This  early  connection  of  the  translation  of  the  Bible 
with  Westminster  was  revived  when  in  our  own  time, 
on  the  motion  of  Convocation,  and  ultimately  under 
the  control  of  the  University  Presses,  a  new  revision 
was  undertaken.  The  companies  of  translators,  drawn 
from  both  Universities,  and  from  all  sections  of  eccle- 
siastical life  in  England,  met  for  this  work,  always 
at  Westminster,  usually  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber; 
sometimes  in  the  Chapter  Library,  occasionally  in  the 
Deanery.  Its  first  beginning  was  inaugurated  by  a 
scene  which,  though  it  afterwards  gave  rise  to  some 
acrimonious  discussion,  at  the  time  impressed  all  those 
who  witnessed  it,  and  most  of    those   who    heard    it, 

1  Preface  to  Morgan's  Translation  of  the  Bible. 


THE  CONVOCATION  OF  CANTERBURY.    327 

with  a  sense  of  solemn  and  edifying  pathos.  '  Prepara- 
tory to  their  entrance  on  their  important  work,  a  notice 
had  been  issued  to  each  of  the  revisers,  to  the  effect 
that  the  Sacrament  would  be  administered  Thewest- 
ift  Henry  VII.' s  Chapel,  on  the  day  of  their  communion, 
first  meeting,  to  such  of  the  body  as  should  feel 
disposed  to  attend.  The  Dean  read  the  service  from 
the  Communion  Table  at  the  head  of  Henry  VII.'s 
tomb.  It  so  happened  that  this  Table  thus  received 
its  first  use.  It  had  within  a  few  days  past,  as  the 
inscription  round  it  records,  been  erected  in  the  place 
of  the  ancient  altar  which  once  indicated  the  spot  where 
Edward  VI.  was  buried.  On  the  marble  slab  which 
covers  its  top  was  placed  the  recovered  fragment  of  the 
beautifully  carved  frieze  of  the  lost  altar,  together  with 
other  fragments  of  ruined  altars  which  happened  to  be 
at  hand  for  a  like  purpose.^  In  front  of  this  table,  thus 
itself  a  monument  of  the  extinct  strifes  of  former  days, 
and  round  the  grave  of  the  youthful  Protestant  King, 
in  whose  reign  the  English  Bible  first  received  its  ac- 
knowledged place  in  the  Coronation  of  the  Sovereign, 
as  well  as  its  free  and  general  circulation  throughout 
the  people,  knelt  together  the  band  of  scholars  and 
divines,  consisting  of  representatives  of  almost  every 
form  of  Christian  belief  in  England.  There  were 
Bishops  of  the  Established  Church,  two  of  them  by 
their  venerable  years  connected  with  the  past  genera- 
tion; there  were  delegates  from  our  historic  Cathedrals 
and  Collegiate  Churches,  our  Universities,  our  parishes, 
and  of  our  chief  ecclesiastical  assembly ;  and  with  these, 
intermingled  without  distinction,  were  ministers  of  the 

1  From  the  High  Altar  at  Canterbury,  burnt  in  1174:  from  the 
altar  of  tlie  Greek  Church  at  Damascus,  destroyed  in  1860;  and  from 
an  Abyssinian  altar  at  Magdala,  brought  home  in  1866. 


328         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

Established  and  of  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland,  and  of 
almost  every  Nonconformist  Church  in  England  —  In- 
dependent, Baptist,  Wesleyan,  Unitarian.  It  is  not  to 
he  supposed  that  each  one  of  those  present  entered  with 
equal  agreement  into  every  part  of  the  service  ;  but  it 
is  not  without  a  hopeful  significance  that,  at  the  time, 
such  various  representatives  of  British  Christendom 
partook,  without  difficulty,  on  such  an  occasion  in  the 
sacred  ordinance  of  the  Christian  religion.'  It  was 
called  by  a  devout  theologian,  since  departed,  '  a  true 
Elevation  of  the  Host.' 

We  return  to  the  general  history  of  the  Abbey. 

The  School  during  this  period  had  reached  its  highest 
pitch  of  fame.  Knipe,  who  had  been  second  Master 
,,  .     „    ,    under  Busby,  and  succeeded  him  as  Head- 

Knipe,  Head-  •'  ' 

'■mb^mi  Piaster,  after  fifty  years'  labour  in  the  School, 
Hetim'aster  "^as  buricd  in  the  North  Cloister,  and  com- 
buried^l  memorated  by  a  monument  in  the  South  Aisle 
Witney.  ^^  ^^iQ  Clioir.  Frcind  is  especially  connected 
with  the  Abbey  by  his  numerous  inscriptions,^  by  his 
steadfast  friendship  with  Atterbury,  and  by  his  estab- 
lishment of  the  Westminster  dinners  on  the  anniversary 
of  the  accession  of  the  Foundress. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  an  alarming  fire  took  place 
Fire  in  the  in  the  Prcciucts.  On  the  site  of  the  Old  Ee- 
173^'^'^^'  fectory  was  a  stately  house  built  by  Inigo 
Jones,2  and  illustrated  by  Sir  J.  Soane.  A  beautiful  stair- 
case of  this  period  still  remains.  It  has  gone  through 
various  changes.  In  1708,  it  was  occupied  by  Lord 
Ashburnham,  and  from  him  took  the  name  of  Ashburn- 
ham  House.  In  1739,  it  reverted  to  the  Chapter,  and  was 
divided  into  two  prebendal  houses,  of  which  the  larger 

1  See  Chapter  IV.  ^  Gleanings,  228. 


IN  THE   EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  329 

was   in   later  years  connected  with   the  literature  of 
England,  when  occupied  first  as  a  tenant  by 

1S27-1832. 

Fynes  Clinton,  the  laborious  author  of   the 

'Fasti   Hellenici,'^  and  then  by  Henry  Milman,  poet, 

historian,  and  divine,  as  Canon  of  Westmin- 

T         1        ■  •  •     1    •     -1       1    T  1S35-1S49. 

ster.  In  the  intervening  period  it  had  become 
the  property  of  the  Crown,  and  m  1712  received  what 
was  called  the  King's  Library,  and  in  1730  the  Library 
of  Sir  Eobert  Cotton.  Dr.  Bentley  happened  to  be  in 
town  at  the  moment  when  the  house  took  fire.  Dr. 
Freind,  the  Headmaster,  who  came  to  the  rescue,  has 
recorded  how  he  saw  a  figure  issuing  from  the  burning 
house,  into  Little  Dean's  Yard,  in  his  dressing-gown, 
with  a  flowing  wig  on  his  head,  and  a  huge  volume 
under  his  arm.  It  was  the  great  scholar  carrying  off 
the  Alexandrian  MS.  of  the  New  Testament.  The 
books  were  first  placed  in  the  Little  Cloisters,  in  the 
Chamber  of  the  Captain,  and  in  the  boarding-house  in 
Little  Dean's  Yard,  and  then  on  the  following  oct.  3, 1731. 

/-\^  1    -T^  •  •       L    Samuel 

Monday  removed  to  the  Old  Dormitory,  just  Bradford, 

,  ,       ,       -      .  1723-31. 

vacated,  till,  in  1757,  they  reached  their  pres-  Prebendary 

"^  of  Westmin- 

ent  abode  in  the  British  Museum.^  ster  nos ; 

Bishop  of 

Bradford,  who  had  already  been  prebendary  ^i^'^l'^'^g^j^ 

of  Westminster  for  nearly  twenty  years,  took  °[ji^t™i''- 

Atterbury's  place  in  the  Chapter,  whilst  Atter-  |';,f^P°er, 

bury  was  still  in  the  Tower.     His  conciliatory  J^^l^/j^' ^.p^ 

character  recommended  him  as  a  fit  person  to  ^^^^'J^l""' 

end   the  feuds  which,    in    Atterbury's    time,  ^f^,^l^. 

had   raged   between   the   Dean   and   Canons,  'e^X^fof 

and  did,  in  fact,  tend  to  assuage  the  strife  be-  R"'^!^^^^^'-- 

tween   Westminster  and  Bentley .^     He   was  the   first 

1  Clinton's  Literari/  Eemains,  262-295. 

2  Walcott's    Westminster,  p.   90 ;  Monk's  Life  of  Bentley,  p.  577 ; 
Nichols's  Anecdotes,  ix.  592.  ^  Monk's  Life  of  Bentley,  p.  535. 


330         THE    ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

Dean   of  the   Order  of  the  Bath.i     He  lies  near  his 
monument  in  the  North  Transept. 

Wilcocks,  who  had  been  elected  Fellow  of  Magdalen 
College,  in  the  '  golden  election,'  with  Addison  and  Boul- 
ter, distinguished  himself  by  his  courageous  devotion 
to  the  sick  whilst  chaplain  at  Lisbon,  and  afterwards 
as  preceptor  to  the  Princesses  of  the  Eoyal  Family. 
It  was  in  this  period  that  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Abbey,  as  the  eighteenth  century  advanced,  began  to  be 
gradually  cleared  of  the  incumbrances  which  closed  it 
in.  Then  was  commenced  the  most  important  change 
in  the  architectural  and  topographical  history  of  West- 
minster since  the  building  of  the  Abbey  and  Palace. 
Amidst  much  opposition  the  attempts  which  had  been 
fruitlessly  made  in  the  several  reigns  of  Elizabeth, 
James  T.,  Charles  I.,  Charles  II.,  and  George  I.,  to 
secure  another  bridge  over  the  Thames  besides  that  of 
London,  at  last  succeeded.  All  the  arts  that  old  mono- 
poly and  prejudice  could  bring  to  bear  were  used,  but 
in  vain,  and  Westminster  Bridge,  after  a  brief  but  fierce 
Buiidiiisof    discussion  whether  it  should    start  from  the 

Westminster  . 

Bridge,  1738.  Horsefcrry  Pier  or  the  ancient  pier  by  New 
Palace  Yard,  was  at  last  fixed  where  it  now  stands,  and 
the  first  stone  was  laid  in  1738  by  the  Earl  of  Pembroke. 
This  great  approach  at  once  prepared  the  way  for  fur- 
ther changes.  The  ancient  Woolstaple,  or  Pollen  stock, 
of  Edgar's  charter  was  swept  away  to  make  room  for 
the  western  abutment  of  the  bridge  in  1741.  On  the 
site  of  the  small  courts  and  alleys  ^  which  surrounded 
the  Abbey,  rose  Bridge  Street  and  Great  George  Street. 
By  the  side  of  the  narrow  avenue  of  King  Street  was 
opened,  as  if  for  the  growth  of  the  rising  power  whose 

1  See  Chapter  II.  p.  119.  ^   Westminster  Improvements,  2Q-22. 


IN  THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  331 

name  it  bore,  the  broad  way  of  Parliament  Street.  St. 
Margaret's  Lane,  between  the  Church  and  Palace,  was 
widened  —  having  been  before  so  constructed  as  to 
require  high  pales  to  protect  the  foot  passengers  from 
the  mud  splashed  on  all  sides  by  the  horses.  With 
those  changes  the  admmistration  of  the  Abbey  by 
Wilcocks,  in  great  measure,  coincided.  During  the 
twenty-five  years  in  which  he  presided  over  it,  the 
heavy  repairs,  which  had  been  in  progress  almost  since 
the  Kestoration,  were  completed.^  He,  '  being  a  gentle- 
man of  taste  and  judgment,  swept  away'  ^  two  prebendal 
houses  in  the  Cloisters,  and  two  others  '  between  ^  the 
north  door  and  west  end '  of  the  Nave,  as  well  as  two 
others  on  the  side  of  Henry  VII. 's  Chapel.*  The  present 
enclosure  of  Dean's  Yard  was  now  formed  partly  from 
the  materials  of  the  old  Dormitory  and  Brewhouse.^ 
Six  new  elms  were  planted.     For  the  first  time 

^  .  .  0ct.3l,  17-29. 

there  appears  a  scruple  aganist  puttmg  up  a 
monument  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel, '  as  it  will  necessarily 
hide  or  deface  some  of  the  curious  workman-  The  westem 

Towers, 

ship  thereof.'  ^     Above  all,  whilst  the  projected  irss-g. 

1  He  restored,  as  is  described  in  his  epitaph,  the  monthly  residence 
of  the  Prebendaries. 

2  Gwyn's  London  and  Westminster,  p.  90. 

3  It  appears  from  the  Chapter  Order,  December  2,  1741,  that  there 
were  two  gates  opening  from  one  of  these  houses  into  the  churchyard. 

*  This  was  at  the  suggestion  of  Parliament.  (Chapter  Book, 
March  11,  1731;  March  23,  1735;  February  17,  17.38.)  Out  of  the 
money  granted  by  Parliament  for  this  purpose  was  bought  Ashburn- 
ham  House,  which  was  divided  into  two  prebendal  houses,  to  compen 
sate  for  the  loss  of  the  others.  (Ibid.  Oct.  29,  1739;  June  14,  1740.) 
See  p.  208. 

s  Chapter  Order,  May  28,  1756.  The  materials  were  given  to  Dr. 
Markman  (then  Headmaster),  and  Mr.  Salter  —  one  of  the  Prebenda- 
ries alone  protesting.  Dr.  Wilson,  son  of  the  good  Bishop  of  Man. 
His  solitary  '  I  dissent '  appears  in  the  Chapter  Book,  and  he  published 
a  pamphlet  again-st  it,  with  the  motto  from  Micah  ii.  2  (1757). 

•>  Chapter  Order,  May  1,  1740.     (Monk's  monument.) 


332        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

Spire  was  finally  abandoned,  the  Western  Towers  of 
Sir  Christopher  Wren  were  finished.^  It  is  interesting 
to  mark  the  extreme  pride  which  the  aged  Dean  took 
in  commemorating,  as  a  glory  of  his  office,  that  which 
the  fastidious  taste  of  our  time  so  largely  condemns. 
On  his  monument  in  the  Abbey,  in  his  portrait  in  the 
Deanery,  in  the  picture  of  the  Abbey  ^  by  Canaletti  — 
which  he  caused  to  be  painted  evidently  for  their  sake 
—  the  Towers  of  Wren  constantly  appear.  He  was 
buried  under  the  southern  of  the  two,  in  a  vault  made 
for  himself  and  his  family,  as  recorded  in  an  inscription 
still  remaining ;  and  his  tablet  was  erected  near  his 
grave,  by  his  son  Joseph,  called  by  Pope  Clement  XIII., 
who  knew  him  well  during  his  residence  at  Eome,  '  the 
blessed  heretic'  ^  Both  father  and  son  were  admirable 
men.  Over  the  Dean's  bier,  in  the  College  Hall,  was 
pronounced  the  eulogium,  '  Longum  cssct  pcrscqiti  sand- 
issimi  senis  jucunditatcm'  Each  took  for  his  motto,  in 
a  slightly  different  form,  the  expression,  '  Let  me  do 
all  the  cfood  I  can.'  The  son,  whenever  he  came  to 
London, '  always  went  to  the  Abbey  for  his  first  and 
last  visit;*  in  particular  that  part  of  it  where  his 
father's  monument  stands,  and  near  which  the  Ijishop, 
with  his  mother  and  sister  and  himself,  rests  in 
peace.' 

Zachary  Pearce  was  one  of  the  numerous  fruits  of 
Queen  Caroline's  anxiety  to  promote  learning.     From 

1  Chapter  Book,  Feb.  17,  1738-39.  Wren  restored  the  lower  part 
of  the  towers  and  made  a  design  for  the  whole.  But  after  his  death  in 
1723,  the  upper  part  was  completed  by  Hawksmore,  and  after  his 
death  in  1736  probably  by  James.     (See  Longman's  St.  Paul's,  p.  86.) 

2  It  was  his  son  who  left  to  the  Deanery  the  bust  and  the  picture  of 
the  Abbey.     (Chapter  Book,  June  27,  1793,  March  3,  1795.) 

3  Preface  to  Wilcocks's  Roman  Conversations,  p.  xli. 
*  Ibid.  p.  xxxiv. 


^U  'A.^T-. 


-'' *  '^'^'        ^^  II     iiiliiiil        1 1  « ■  > 


>' 


IN  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.       833 

the  Deanery  of  Winchester  and  the  See  of  Bangor,  he 
was  advanced,  by  his  friend  Lord  Bath,  to  the  Deanery 
of   Westminster   and   the   See   of   Eochester,  zachary 

Pearce, 

although  with  great  reluctance  on  his  part,  iTso-es. 
which  ultimately  issued,  after  vain  attempts  to  resign 
the  Bishopric,  in  his  retirement  from  the  Deanery,  in 
his  seventy-fourth  year.  This  is  the  sole  instance  of 
such  an  abdication.  '  His  exultation  at  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  long  disappointed  wish,  the  Bishop  ex- 
pressed' in  a  soliloquy  entitled  'The  Wish,  1768,  when 
I  resigned  the  Deanery  of  Westminster,'  which  begins, 
'  From  all  Decanal  cares  at  last  set  free.'  ^  In  1774,  in  his 
eighty-fourth  year,  he  died  at  Bromley,  where  he  is 
buried  with  an  inscription  dictated  by  himself,  which, 
after  recording  his  various  preferments,  concludes  by 
saying,  '  He  resigned  the  Deanery  of  Westminster,  and 
died  in  the  comfortable  hope  of  (what  had  been  his 
chief  object  in  life)  being  promoted  to  a  happier  sphere 
hereafter.'  It  agrees  with  the  gentle  self-complacency 
of  a  remark,  in  answer  to  an  inquiry  how  he  could 
live  on  so  scanty  a  diet  — '  I  live  upon  the  recollection 
of  an  innocent  and  well-spent  life,  which  is  my  only 
sustenance.'  His  disastrous  proposals  for  the  ]\Ionu- 
ments  in  the  Abbey  have  been  already  noticed.^  He  is 
commemorated  there  by  a  cenotaph  in  the  Nave,  of 
which  the  inscription  was  composed  by  his  successor, 
and  ascribes  ^  '  the  uncommon  resolution  '  of  his  resigna- 
tion, to  his  desire  to  finish  his  commentary  on 

1      .  T       1  •        •  1        June  2, 1760. 

the  Gospels  and  Acts.     In  his  time  was  cele- 
brated the  Bicentenary  of  the  Foundation,  by  a  sermon 
from  the  Dean  in  the  Choir  on  Prov.  xxxi.  31,  and  by 

1  Life  of  Dean  Thomas,  p.  Ixxxiii. 

2  See  Chapter  IV. 

^  Life  of  Dean  Thomas,  p.  Ixxxv. 


S34        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   KEFORMATION. 

English  verses  and  an  English  oration  from  the  Scholars 
in  the  Gallery  of  the  College  Hall.^ 

John  Thomas  was  the  third  of  these  octogenarian 
Deans.  He  was  promoted  to  the  Deanery  through  the 
John  interest  of  his  predecessor  Zachary  Pearce,  and 

i7t)s"'Bi'shop  ^^sld  it  for  six  years  alone ;  then,  on  Pearce's 
i77^°''d?ed''''  death,  he  received  also  the  See  of  Ptochester.  He 
Au-!^22''*^^'  was  buried  in  his  parish,  Bletchingley,  but  has 
^^^^'  a  monument  in  the  South  Aisle  of  the  Nave, 

next  to  his  patron  Pearce,  and  copied  by  Bacon  from  a 
portrait  by  Ptcynolds.  The  King  was  overheard  to  say 
on  his  appointment,  '  I  am  glad  to  prefer  Dr.  Thomas, 
who  has  so  much  merit.  We  shall  now  be  sure  of  a 
good  sermon  on  Good  Friday.' ^     This  alludes 

Sermons  on     o  «' 

GoodFriday.  |^q  q^q  long-cstablislied  custom,  by  which  the 
Dean  of  Westminster  (probably  from  the  convenience 
of  his  being  in  town  at  that  season)  preaches  always  in 
the  Chapel  Eoyal  on  that  day.^  Nine  of  these  are  pub- 
lished. He  was  remarkable  for  performing  his  part  at 
the  Installations  of  the  Bath  '  with  peculiar  address  and 
adroitness.'  ^  '  Which  Dr.  Thomas  do  you  mean  ? ' 
asked  some  one  shortly  before  his  promotion,  in  allusion 
to  two  of  that  name.  —  '  Dr.  John  Thomas.'  '  They  are 
both  named  John.'  — 'Dr.  Thomas  who  has  a  living  in 
the  city.'  '  They  have  both  livings  in  the  city.'  — '  Dr. 
Thomas  who  is  chaplain  to  the  King.'  '  They  are  both 
chaplains  to  the  King.'  — '  Dr.  Thomas  who  is  a  very 
good  preacher.'     '  They  are  both  very  good  preachers.' 

1  Chapter  Book,  June  3,  1705.     Gent.  Matj.  xxx.  297. 

2  Life  of  Dean  Thomas,  p.  Ixxxi. 

3  The  custom  appears  in  Evelyn's  Memoirs,  iii.  79,  158.  So  the 
three  Good  Friday  sermons  of  Andrewes  when  Dean  of  Westminster. 
(Life  of  Andreires,  97.) 

*  Life  of  Demi  Thomas,  p.  Ixxxix.  He  made  a  bequest  to  the 
school  to  replace  the  fund  left  by  Titley. 


IN  THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  335 

— '  Dr.  Thomas  who  squints.'     '  They  both  sqiimt.'  — 
They  were  both  afterwards  Bishops.^ 

A  remarkable  scene  is  related  in  connection  with  his 
office,  by  one  who  was  at  the  time  a  Westminster  scholar. 
He  was,  in  the  days  of  its  highest  unpopu-  Tumult  in 
larity,  an  advocate  for  the  removal  of  the  dis-  ti^e  cloisters, 
abilities  of  Eoman  Catholics.  Accordingly,  when  re- 
turning from' the  Abbey  he  was  met  in  the  cloisters 
*  by  a  band  of  tumultuous  and  misguided  enthusiasts, 
who  seized  him  by  his  robes,  and  demanded  "  how  he 
meant  to  vote  in  the  House  of  Lords  ?  "  To  whicli  with 
great  presence  and  firmness  the  Bishop  replied,  "  For 
your  interests  and  my  own."  "  What  then  ?  you  don't 
mean  to  vote  for  Popery?"  —  "No,"  said  he,  "thank 
God,  that  is  no  part  of  our  interests  in  this  Protestant 
country."  Upon  hearing  which  one  of  the  party 
clapped  his  Lordship  on  the  back,  and  cleared  the  pas- 
sage for  him,  calling  out,  "  Make  way  for  the  Protestant 
Bishop."  '  2  To  his  turn  for  music  the  Abbey  doubtless 
owed  the  refitting  of  the  Choir  in  his  time,  and  Hansel 

"  Festival, 

also  the  Festival  on  the  centenary  of  Handel's  "S4. 
birth.3  Tt  was  suggested  by  Lord  Fitzwilliam,  Sir 
Watkin  Williams  Wynne,  and  Joah  Bates.  The  Nave 
was  arranged  by  James  Wyatt.  The  orchestra  was  at 
the  west  end.  Bnrney  remarks  on  the  fitness  with 
which,  in  the  Hallelujah  Chorus,  the  orchestra  seemed  * 
'  to  unite  with  the  saints  and  martyrs  represented  on 
the  stained  glass  in  the  west  window,  which  had  all 
the  appearance  of  a  continuation  of  it.'  The  King  and 
Eoyal  family,  and  the  chief  personages,  sate  at  the  east 

1  Life  of  Bishop  Neivton. 

2  Life  of  Dean  Thomas,  p.  Ixxxvi. 
8  Neale,  i.  211. 

*  Burney's  Account  of  the  Handel  Commemoration,  part  vi.  p.  84. 


336         THE   ABBEY   SINCE    THE   REFORMATION. 

end.     The  School  were  m  the  Choir  behind.     The  organ, 
just  built  by  Green  of  Islington  for  Canterbury,  was 
put  up  in  the  Abbey, '  before  its  departure  for  the  place 
of  its  destination.'  ^     All  the  music  was  selected  from 
Handel's  own  compositions,  and  it  is  said  that  at  the 
Hallelujah  Chorus  George  III.  rose,  affected  to  tears, 
and  the  whole  assembly  stood  up  at  the  same  moment. 
Hence  the  custom,  now  universal,  of    standing  at  the 
Hallelujah  Chorus.     It  was  originally  intended  to  have 
been  on  the  20th,  21st,  and  22nd  of  April,  so  as  to  coin- 
cide with  the  day  of  Handel's  funeral  in  the  Abbey,  but 
was  postponed  till  the  26th,  27th,  and  29th  of  May,  to 
which  the  3rd  and  5th  of  June  were  afterwards  added. 
The  success  of  this  experiment,  before  an  audience  of 
10,480  persons,  encouraged  the  performance  of  similar 
meetings  on  a  larger  scale,  under  the  title  of  '  Great 
Musical   Festivals,'   in   1785,  1786,   1787,  and    1791, 
when  the  performers  are  said  to  have  amounted,  though 
not  on  any  one  occasion,  to  1,068  persons.     They  were 
discontinued  during  the  war,  and  not  revived  till  1834, 
when   a   similar   festival    took   place,    which,    though 
occurring  at  the  exact  interval  of  half  a  century  from 
the  first  commemoration  of  Handel,  did  not  bear  that 
name,  and  included  the  works  of  nine  other  composers 
besides  those  of  the  great  musician.     It  was  suggested 
by  Sir  George  Smart,  and  adopted,  somewhat  against  the 
wishes  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter,  at  the  request  or  com- 
mand of  William  IV.,  who  wished  to  imitate  his  father's 
example.     Its  effect,  however,  was  considerable,  and  it 
may  be  regarded  as  the  parent  of  the  concerts  of  the 
Sacred  Harmonic  Society  in  London.^ 

Sir  Joshua   Eeynolds  has  immortalised  for  us  the 

1  B^urney,  p.  8. 

2  Handel  Festival  of  1859,  at  the  Crystal  Palace,  p.  v. 


IN  THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  337 

features  of  the  venerable  Headmaster,  Dr.  Nicoll,  who 
occupies  the  last  half  of  the  century.  It  was  Nicoii.nead- 
under  him  that  Warren  Hastings  and  Elijah  1733-88. 
Impey  were  admitted  ^  in  the  same  year,  uncon-  Hastfngs, 
scious  of  the  strange  destiny  which  was  after- 
wards to  bring  them  together  in  India.  They,  with 
twenty-one  other  Westminster  Scholars,  in  that  distant 
land  (in  which  so  many  of  this  famous  School  have 
made  their  fame  or  found  their  grave),  commemorated 
their  recollection  of  their  boyish  days  in  Dean's 
Yard  and  on  the  Thames  by  determining  to  present 
to  the  Scholars'  Table  a  silver  cup,^  which,  inscribed 
with  their  names,  and  ornamented  by  handles  in  the 
form  of  elephants,  is  still  used  on  the  solemn  festive 
occasions  of  the  collegiate  body.  Contemporary  with 
Hastings  was  another  boy,  of  a  gentler  nature,  on 
whom  also,  in  spite  of  himself,  Westminster  cmvper, 
left  a  deep  impression.  'That  I  may  do  jus- 
tice,' says  the  poet  Cowper,  '  to  the  place  of  my  educa- 
tion, I  must  relate  one  mark  of  religious  discipline 
which  was  observed  at  Westminster :  I  mean  the  pains 
which  Dr.  Nicoll  took  to  prepare  us  for  Confirmation. 
The  old  man  acquitted  himself  of  this  duty  like  one 
who  had  a  deep  sense  of  its  importance ;  and  I  believe 
most  of  us  were  struck  by  his  manner  and  affected  by 
his  exhortations.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  I  attempted 
to  pray  in  secret.'  Another  serious  impression  is  still 
more  closely  connected  with  the  locality.  '  Crossing 
St.  Margaret's  Churchyard  late  one  evening,  a  glimmer- 
ing light  in  the  midst  of  it  excited  his  curiosity,  and, 
instead  of  quickening  his  speed,  he,  whistlmg  to  keep 

1  1747:  see  Aht7nni  West monast. -p]}.  342,  345. 

2  For  the  cup  see  Alumni  West.  346 ;  Lusus  Westm.  i.  326 ;  ii.  ppt 
vii.  viii. 

VOL.  II.  —  22 


338        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

up  his  courage  the  while,  went  to  see  whence  it  pro- 
ceeded. A  gravedigger  was  at  work  there  by  lantern- 
light,  and,  just  as  Cowper  came  to  the  spot,  he  threw 
up  a  skull,  which  struck  him  on  the  leg.  This  gave  an 
alarm  to  his  conscience,  and  he  reckoned  the  incident 
as  among  the  best  religious  documents  which  he  re- 
ceived at  Westminster,'  ^  Amongst  his  other  school- 
fellows were  Churchill,  Lloyd,  Coleman,  and  Cumberland 
(who  was  in  the  same  house  with  him),  and  Lord  Dart- 
mouth (who  sate  side  by  side  with  him  in  the  sixth 
form),  and  the  five  Bagots,  '  very  amiable  and  valuable 
boys  they  were.'  ^  Doubtless  much  of  the  severe  indig- 
nation expressed  in  the  '  Tirocinium  '  was  suggested  by 
his  recollection  of  those  days ;  but  when  he  wished  for 
comfort  in  looking  backward,  '  he  sent  his  imagination 
upon  a  trip  thirty  years  behind  him.  She  was  very 
obedient  and  very  swift  of  foot;  and  at  last  sat  him 
down  in  the  sixth  form  at  Westminster'  —  'receiving 
a  silver  groat  for  his  exercise,  and  acquiring  fame  at 
Markham,  cricket  and  football.'  ^  Nicoll  was  succeeded 
1753,  bniied'  by  Markham,  also  known  to  us  through  Eey- 
1807!  '  nolds's  portrait,  friend  of  Hastings*  and  of 
Mansfield.  He  became  tutor  to  George  IV.,  and  rose  to 
the  see  of  York.  He  was  buried  in  his  old  haunts  in 
the  North  Cloister,  where  a  monument  is  erected  to  him 
johnHeyiin,  ^7  ^^^^  grandchildren.  Of  the  Prebendaries 
auI-'it"™*^  of  this  period  some  notice  may  be  given.  In 
wuson.  the  South  Transept  lies  John  Heylm,  the 
1743-83.  mystic  friend  of  Butler,  and  preacher  of  the 
sermon    (on   2   Tim.   ii.  15,  16)  at  his   consecration.^ 

-■      1  Southey's  Cowper,  i.  13,  14.  ^  ibid.  v.  114. 

3  Ibid.  i.  15,  17-20.  *  Alumni  West.  318. 

5  His  Theological  Lectures  to  the   King's    Scholars   have   been 
published. 


IN  THE   EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  o39 

Another  was  Thomas  Wilson,  son  of  the  good  Bishop, 
whose  strenuous  and  solitary  opposition  to  the  forma- 
tion of  Dean's  Yard  has  been  already  noticed.^  Kennieott. 

•'  July-Oct., 

A  stall  at  Westminster  was  the  first  reward  itto. 

of  Dr.  Kennieott  for  his  lectures  on  the  Old  Testament, 

so  fiercely  attacked,  and  afterwards  so  highly  valued. 

The  eighteenth  century  closes  with  Horsley.  He 
won,  it  is  said,  his  preferment  to  the  Deanery  and  the 
See  of  Kochester  by  a  sermon  which,  as  Bishop  samuei 

''  Horsley. 

of  St.  David's,  he  preached  in  the  Abbey  on  1793-1S02. 
January  30,  1793,  before  the  House  of  Lords,  on  the 
anniversary  of  the  execution  of  Charles  I.,  and  a  few 
days  after  the  execution  of  Louis  XVI.  It  was  cus- 
tomary, on  these  and  on  like  occasions,  for  the  House 
of  Lords  to  attend  Divine  Service  in  the  Abbey,  and 
for  the  House  of  Commons  in  St.  Margaret's  Church. 
The  Temporal  Peers  sate  on  the  south  side,  with  the 
Lord  Chancellor  at  their  head  —  originally  in  the  pew 
under  Eichard  II. 's  picture,  in  later  times  near  the 
Dean's  or  in  the  Subdean's  stall.  The  Bishops  were  on 
the  north  side.  The  solemn  occasion,  no  doubt,  of 
Horsley's  sermon  added  to  the  grandeur  of  those  sono- 
rous utterances.  '  I  perfectly  recollect,'  says  an  eye- 
witness, '  his  impressive  manner,  and  can  fancy  that 
the  sound  still  vibrates  in  my  ears.'  ^  When  he  burst 
into  the  peroration  connecting  together  the  French  and 
English  regicides  —  '0  my  country !  read  the  horror 
of  thy  own  deed  in  this  recent  heightened  imitation, 
and  lament  and  weep  that  this  black  French  treason 

1  He  wrote  a  preface  to  a  pamphlet  defending  the  east  window  in 
St.  Margaret's  from  a  process  instituted  against  the  churchwardens  of 
the  parish  by  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  Westminster,  under  the  Act 
which  was  recently  revived  against  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  Exeter 
for  the  removal  of  images  from  Exeter  Cathedral. 

2  Nichols,  iv.  685. 


340         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

should  have  found  its  example  in  that  crime  of  thy 
unnatural  sons  ! '  —  the  whole  of  the  august  assembly 
rose,  and  remained  standing  till  the  conclusion  of  the 
sermon.  The  Deanery  of  Westminster  fell  vacant  in 
that  same  year,  and  it  was  given  to  Horsley,  who  held 
it,  with  the  See  of  Eochester,  till  his  translation  to  St. 
Asaph,  in  1802.  *  He  wore  the  red  ribbon  of  the  Bath 
in  every  time  and  place,  like  Louis  XIV.,  who  went  to 
bed  in  his  wig.'  ^  His  despotic  utterances  remain  in 
the  tones  of  his  Chapter  Orders  — '  We,  the  Dean,  do 
peremptorily  command  and  enjoin,'  etc.  He  marked 
his  brief  stay  in  office  by  special  consideration  of  the 
interests  of  the  Precentor,  Minor  Canons,  and  Lay 
Clerks  of  Westminster.  When,  four  years  afterwards, 
he  died  at  Brighton,  and  was  buried  at  St.  Mary's 
Newington,  which  he  held  with  the  See  of  St.  Asaph, 
'  the  Choir  of  Westminster  Abbey  attended  his  funeral, 
to  testify  their  gratitude.'  ^ 

Horsley  was  succeeded  by  Vincent,  who  had  profited 
by  his  superior's  classical  criticisms  whilst  Horsley^ 
William  was  Dcau,  and  he  Headmaster.  His  long 
1802-15,'  connection  with  the  Abbey,  and  his  tomb  in 
the  South  Transept,  have  been  already  noticed.*  Of  his 
own  good  qualities,  both  as  a  teacher  and  scholar,  '  the 
sepulchral  stone '  (as  the  inscription  written  by  himself 
records)  '  is  silent.'  His  appointment  was  marked  by 
a  change  in  the  office,  which  restored  the  Deanery  of 
Westminster  to  its  independent  position.  The  See  of 
Eoehester,  for  almost  the  first  time  for  140  years,  was 

1  Lambethiana,  iii.  203.  The  portrait  of  him  at  the  Deanery  with- 
out the  badge  of  the  Order  was  evidently  taken  after  his  translation  to 
St.  Asaph. 

•  2  Nichols,  iv.  681.     Gent.  Mag.  Ixxii.  586. 

2  Pref.  to  Vincent's  Sermons,  p.  xxxiv. 
<  Chapter  IV. 


IN  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.       341 

parted  from  it.  It  is  said  that,  shortly  after  his  nomi- 
nation, he  met  George  III.  on  the  terrace  of  Windsor 
Castle.  The  King  expressed  his  regret  at  the  separa- 
tion of  the  two  offices.  The  Dean  replied  that  he  was 
perfectly  content.  '  If  you  are  satisfied,'  said  the  King, 
'  I  am  not.  They  ought  not  to  have  been  separated  — 
they  ought  not  to  have  been  separated.'  However,  they 
were,  happily,  never  reunited,  and  Vincent  continued 
his  Westminster  career  in  the  Deanery  till  his  death. 
'  If  he  had  had  the  choice  of  all  the  preferments  in  his 
Majesty's  gift,  there  is  none,'  he  said,  '  that  he  should 
rather  have  had  than  the  Deanery  of  Westminster.' 
His  name  is  perpetuated  in  Westminster  by  the  conver- 
sion into  Vincent  Square  of  that  part  of  Tothill  Fields 
which  had  been  appropriated  to  the  playground  of  the 
School.^  From  his  exertions  was  obtained  the  Parlia- 
mentary grant  for  the  reparation  of  the  exterior  of 
Henry  VII.'s  Chapel.  His  scholars  long  remembered 
his  swinging  pace,  his  sonorous  quotations,  and  the 
loud  Latin  call  of  Eloqucre,  pucr,  cloqucre,  with  which  he 
ordered  the  boys  to  speak  out.  They  testified  that  at 
his  lectures  preparatory  to  the  Holy  Communion  there 
was  never  known  an  instance  of  any  boy  treating  the 
disquisition  with  levity,  or  not  showing  an  eagerness  to 
be  present  at,  or  to  profit  by,  the  lesson.^     To  John 

-vT-  11X11T  1  p-  Ireland, 

Vmcent  succeeded  Ireland,  whose  benefactions  isio-42. 
at  Oxford  will  long  preserve  his  name  in  the  recollec- 
tion of  grateful  scholars.  He  is  the  last  Dean  buried 
in  the  Abbey.  He  lies  in  the  South  Transept,  with  his 
schoolfellow  GifFord,  translator  of  Juvenal,  and  first 
editor  of  the  '  Quarterly.' 

1  See  Lusus  Westmonast.  i.  p.  296.     For  his  death,  see  ibid.  p.  239. 

2  Gent.  Mag.  xlv.  633. 


342         THE   ABBEY  SINCE  THE  EEFORMATION. 

'  With  what  feelings,'  says  that  faithful  friend,  '  do  I  trace 
the  words  —  "the  Dean  of  Westminster."  Five-and-forty 
springs  have  now  passed  over  my  head  since  I  first  found 
Dr.  Ireland,  some  years  my  junior,  iu  our  little  school,  at 
his  spelling-book.  During  this  long  period,  our  friendship 
has  been  without  a  cloud ;  my  delight  in  youth,  my  pride 
and  consolation  in  age.  I  have  followed  with  an  interest 
that  few  can  feel,  and  none  can  know,  the  progress  of  my 
friend  from  the  humble  state  of  a  curate  to  the  elevated 
situation  which  he  has  now  reached,  and  in  every  successive 
change  have  seen,  with  inexpressible  delight,  his  reputa- 
tion and  the  wishes  of  the  public  precede  his  advancement. 
His  piety,  his  learning,  his  conscientious  discharge  of  his 
sacred  duties,  his  unwearied  zeal  to  promote  the  interests  of 
all  around  him,  will  be  the  theme  of  other  times  and  other 
pens  ;  it  is  sufficient  for  my  happiness  to  have  witnessed  at 
the  close  of  a  career,  prolonged  by  Infinite  Goodness  far  be- 
yond my  expectations,  the  friend  and  companion  of  my  heart 
in  that  dignified  place,  which,  while  it  renders  his  talents 
and  his  virtues  more  conspicuous,  derives  every  advantage 
from  their  wider  influence  and  exertion.'  ^ 

The  remaining  years  of  this  century  are  too  recent 
for  detailed  remarks.     The  names  of  Carey,  Page,  Good- 
enough,  Williamson,  and  Liddell  will  still  be 

Thomas  o    '  ' 

m'-''i^5-  remembered,  apart  from  the  other  spheres  in 
died  1804.      which  thev  each  shone,  in  their  benefactions 

Samuel  "Z  ' 

wuberforce,  qj.  improvements  of  Westminster  School  — 
Bucki™id  ®^®^  ^^  ^^^^  Westminster  play.  To  Ireland 
B^t^i"ani  succeeded  Turton,  for  a  brief  stay,  before  his 
TrSr  removal  to  the  See  of  Ely.  Then  came  one 
1856-63.  whose  government  of  Westminster,  though 
overclouded  at  its  close,  has  left  deep  traces  on  the 
place.     If   the   memory   of   the   eagles,    serpents,   and 

^  Preface  to  the  Memoirs  of  Ben  Jonson,  by  William  Gifford,  p.  72. 


IN  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.       343 

monkeys,  which  crowded  the  Deanery  in  Dean  Buck- 
land's  geological  reign,  awake  a  grotesque  reminiscence, 
his  active  concern  in  the  welfare  of  the  School,  his  keen 
interest  in  the  tombs  —  we  must  add,  the  very  stones  and 
soil  —  of  the  Abbey,  have  been  rarely  equalled  amongst 
his  predecessors.  The  two  remaining  Deans  became  Pre- 
lates, whose  names  belong  to  the  history  and  to  the 
literature  of  England.  But  their  memory  is  too  fresh  to 
be  touched. 

There  are  a  few  occasional  solemnities  to  be  noticed 
before  we  part  from  the  general  history.  Baptisms 
and  marriages  have  been  comparatively  rare.  Mar- 
riages, which  were  occasionally  celebrated  in  Henry 
VII.'s  Chapel,  were  discontinued  after  the  passing  of  Lord 
Hardwicke's  Act  in  1754,  and  were  only  revived  within 
the  last  ten  years.  Confirmations  have  been  confined 
to  the  celebration  of  that  rite  for  the  Westminster 
School,  by  some  Bishop  connected  with  Westminster, 
appointed  for  the  purpose  by  the  Dean.  Ordinations 
have  very  rarely  ^  taken  place  in  the  Abbey.  Of  episco- 
pal consecrations  the  most  notable  instances  have  been 
mentioned  as  we  have  proceeded.  After  their  sudden 
and  striking  accumulation  at  the  Restoration,  they 
gradually  died  away.^  It  was  reserved  for  consecra- 
this  century  to  witness  the  reintroduction  of  coionLi 
the  rite  in  a  more  imposing  form,  not  as  before  ^'*'^'*p^- 
in  the  Chapel  of  the  Infirmary,  or  of  Henry  VII.,  but 
in  the  Choir  of  the  Abbey  itself.     This  change  coincides 

1  Besides  that  of  Ferrar  by  Laud,  there  was  one  by  the  Bishop  of 
Bangor  (Roberts),  Sept.  4,  1660,  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel  (Evelyn's 
Memoirs,  ii.  153),  and  by  Sprat  in  1689  (Statutes  of  King's  College, 
Cambridge,  p.  xxv). 

2  The  only  one  in  the  last  century  was  Bishop  Dawes  of  Chester  on 
February  8,  1708;  and  the  discontinuance  of  the  ceremony  is  rendered 
more  significant  from  the  fact,  that  the  consecration  of  another  Bishop 


344         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

with  the  extension  of  the  Colonial  Episcopate  ^  which 
marked  the  administration   of  Archbishop  Howley,  a 
movement  which  doubtless  contained  from  the  begin- 
ning a  germ  of  future  mischief,^  but  which  was  pro- 
jected with  the  best  intentions,  and  often  witli  the  best 
results.    The  first  of  these,  in  1842,  included  the  Bishops 
of  Barbadoes,  Antigua,  Guiana,  Gibraltar,  and  Tasmania. 
This  was  followed  in  1847  by  the  consecration  of  three 
Australian  Bishops,  and  the  first  Bishop  of  South  Africa, 
Eobert  Gray,  Bishop  of  Capetown,  and  in  1850  by  that  of 
Francis  Fulford,  Bishop  of  Montreal,  who  both  became 
subsequently  known  from  the  controversies,  political  and 
theological,  in  which  they  were  involved.     On  Ascen- 
sion Day,  1858,  was  consecrated  George  Lynch  Cotton, 
Bishop  of  Calcutta.     Years  afterwards,  from  the  shores 
from  which  he  never  returned,  he  wrote  with  a  touch- 
ins  fervour  of  the  scenes  he  had  known  so  well  to  the 
friend  who  had  meanwhile  become  the  head  of  '  that 
noblest  and  grandest  of  English  Churches,  the  one  to 
which  in  historical  and  religious  interests  even  Canter- 
bury must  yield,  the  one  in  which,'  he  adds,  '  I  wor- 
shipped as  a  boy,  in  which  I  was  confirmed,  and  in 
which  I  was  consecrated  to  the  great  work  of  my  life.' 
In  1859,  the  first  Bishops  of  Columbia,  Brisbane,  and  St. 
Helena,  and,  in  1863,  two  missionary  Bishops  of  Central 
Africa  and  of  the  Orange  River  Free  State,  were  conse- 
crated.    It  was  not  till  1859  that  the  practice  of  conse- 
crating in  the  Abbey  the  Bishops  of  English  sees  was 

of  Chester  (Peploe),  April  12,  1726,  took  place  at  Westminster,  uot  in 
the  Abbey,  but  in  the  parish  church  of  St.  Margaret. 

1  Its  main  promoter,  Ernest  Hawkins,  for  many  years  Secretary  of 
the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel,  after  finding  a  few 
years'  respite  from  his  labours  in  the  Precincts  of  Westminster,  now 
lies  in  the  East  Cloister. 

2  See  the  last  letter  of  Dr.  Arnold,  May  22,  1842 ;  Life,  p.  604. 


IN  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  345 

revived,  in  the  case  of  Bangor.  In  1864  and  1868  fol- 
lowed those  of  Ely  and  Hereford.  The  year  1869  began 
and  ended  with  a  remarkable  consecration.  On  Feb.  24, 
a  distinguished  Canon  and  benefactor  of  Westminster 
(Dr.  Wordsworth),  attended  by  the  two  houses  of  Convo- 
cation then  sitting,  was  consecrated  to  the  See  of  Lincoln 
in  the  same  Precincts  where  his  illustrious  predeces- 
sor, St.  Hugh,  had  been  raised  to  the  same  office.  On 
Dec.  21,  under  protest  from  the  same  Prelate,  and  three 
others,  was  consecrated  to  the  See  of  Exeter,  the  worthy 
successor  of  Arnold  at  Ptugby  (Dr.  Temple),  who,  after 
an  opposition  similar  to  that  which,  no  doubt,  would 
have  met  his  predecessor's  elevation,  entered  on  his 
Episcopal  duties  with  a  burst  of  popular  enthusiasm 
such  as  has  hardly  fallen  to  the  lot  of  any  English 
Prelate  since  the  Keformation.  In  the  interval  between 
those  two  (on  Oct.  28),  Dr.  Moberly  was  consecrated 
to  the  See  of  Salisbury.  On  St.  Mark's  Day  (April  25), 
1879,  was  consecrated  to  the  See  of  Durham  the  scholar 
who  has  erected  the  modern  Cambridge  school  of  theol- 
ogy—Joseph Lightfoot.  No  Bishop  of  Durham  had 
been  consecrated  in  the  South  since  Pialph  Flambard,  in 
1099,  in  St.  Paul's. 

We  must  cast  a  glance  backwards  over  the  history  of 
the  whole  fabric  during  this  period.  The  aversion  from 
medieval  architecture  and  tradition  had  indeed  ^^l^^^l^^ 
been  allowed  here,  as  elsewhere  in  Europe,  its  taste. 
full  scope.  Not  only  in  the  monuments,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  but  in  the  general  neglect  of  the  beauty 
of  the  fabric,  had  this  sentiment  made  itself  manifest. 
The  Westminster  boys  were  allowed  'to  skip  from 
tomb  to  tomb  in  the  Confessor's  Chapel.'  ^  On  Sundays 
the  town  boys  sate  in  the   Sacrarium,  doubtless  not 

1  Malcolm,  p.  167. 


346         THE  ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

without  injury  to  the  precious  mosaic  pavement.  There 
was  also  '  playing  at  football,  in  some  of  the  most  curi- 
ous parts  of  the  Abbey,  by  the  men  appointed  to  show 
them.'  ^  The  scenery  of  the  Westminster  Play  was 
kept  in  the  Triforium  of  the  North  Transept.^  There 
was  a  thoroughfare  from  Poets'  Corner  to  the  western 
door,  and  to  the  Cloisters.^  The  South  Transept  was 
a  '  newswalk '  for  the  singing  men  ^  and  their  friends. 
The  poor  of  St.  Margaret's  begged  in  the  Abbey  even 
during  Prayers,^  as  they  had,  ever  since  the  time  of 
Elizabeth,  had  their  food  laid  out  in  the  South  Tran- 
sept during  the  sermon,  till  within  the  memory  of 
man.^  Before  the  Kestoration  the  right  and  emolu- 
ments of  showing  the  tombs  was  conferred  by  patent 
for  life  on  private  individuals.  After  the  Kestoration, 
this  was  made  dependent  on  the  pleasure  of  the  Chapter. 
From  1697  down  to  1822,  the  right  was  transferred  to 
the  Minor  Canons  and  Lay  Vicars,  who  thus  eked  out 
their  insufficient  incomes.  The  memory  of  old  inhabi- 
tants of  the  Cloisters  still  retains  the  figure  of  an  aged 
Minor  Canon,  who  on  Sundays  preached  two-thirds  of 
the  sermons  in  the  course  of  the  year,  and  on  week-days 
sate  by  the  tomb  of  the  Princess  Catharine,  collecting 
from  the  visitors  the  fee  of  two  shillings  a  head,  with 
his  tankards  of  ale  beside  him.^     The  income  of  the 

1  Gent.  Mar).  Ixxi.  pt.  ii.  pp.  101,  623. 

2  Till  April  27,  1829,  when  they  caught  fire.  From  this  dates  the 
institution  of  the  nightly  watchmen.     ( Gent.  Mag.  pt.  i.  pp.  363,  460.) 

3  Malcolm,  pp.  163,  167.  The  iron  gate  which  now  stands  by 
Andre's  monument  originally  stood  by  that  of  Bell,  and  was  opened 
after  the  service  to  allow  the  thoroughfare. 

4  Dart   i.  41.  ^  London  Spif,  p.  179. 
*>  Rye's  Enqland  as  seen  hi/  Foreigners,  p.  132. 

7  For  the  fees  see  Chapter  Book,  Jan.  28  and  May  6,  1779,  May  29, 
1823,  May  6,  1825,  June  2,  1826;  Gent.  Mag.  1801,  pt.  i.  p.  328;  1826, 
pt.  i.  p.  343. 


GENERAL  SUMMARY.  347 

Minor  Canons  was  further  assisted  by  the  candles 
which  they  carried  off  from  the  church  services.  The 
Waxworks  formed  a  considerable  part  of  the  attraction.^ 
The  statues  over  Henry  VII. 's  Chapel  had  been 
taken  down,  lest  they  should  fall  on  Members  of  Parlia- 
ment going  to  their  duties.^  Those  which  had  stood  on 
the  north  side  were  stowed  away  in  the  roof.^  '  Noth- 
ing could  be  more  stupid '  (so  it  was  thought  by  the 
best  judges),  'than  laying  statues  on  their  backs'  — 
nothing  more  barbarous  and  devoid  of  interest  than 
the  Confessor's  Chapel.^  Atterbury,  as  we  have  seen, 
regarded  with  pleasure  the  debasement  of  the  North- 
ern Porch.  The  Wren  family  regarded  the  immense 
superiority  of  the  Whitehall  Banqueting  House  to 
Henry  YII.'s  Chapel  as  incontestable.^  All  manner  of 
proposed  changes  were  under  discussion.  One  was  to 
remove  entirely  the  interesting  Chapel  of  the  Ee vestry, 
with  the  monuments  of  Argyll,  Gay,  and  Prior.® 
Another  was  to  fill  up  the  intercolumniatious  in  the 
Nave  with  statues.  The  two  first  were  already  occu- 
pied by  Captain  Montague  and  Captain  Harvey."  The 
Chapter,  in  1706,  petitioned  Queen  Anne  for  the  Altar- 
piece  once  in  Whitehall  Chapel,  then  at  Hampton 
Court,  which  later  on  in  the  century  was  condemned 
as  '  unpardonable,  tasteless,  and  absurd ; '  and  in  erect- 
ing it,  the  workmen  broke  up  a  large  portion  of  the 
ancient  mosaic  pavement,^  and,  but  for  the  intervention 

1  See  Note  at  end  of  Chapter  IV. 

2  Akerraan,  ii.  6. 

8  Ibid.  ii.  2.     See  Gent.  Mag.  Ixxiii.  pt.  ii.  p.  636;  Neale,  i.  214. 
4  See  the  continuator  of  Stow. 
6  Parentalia,  p.  308. 

6  Gent.  Mag.  1772,  xlii.  517. 

7  Malcolm,  p.  175. 

8  Seymour's  Stow,  ii.  541 ;  Widmore,  p.  165- 


348  THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

of  Harley,  Earl  of  Oxford,  would  have  destroyed  the 
whole.  It  was  then  proposed  to  remove  the  screen  of 
the  Confessor's  Chapel,  and  to  carry  back  the  Choir  as 
far  as  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  '  huddling  up  the  royal 
monuments  to  the  body  of  the  Church  or  the  Transepts.'  ^ 
The  venerable  Sanctuary  disappeared  in  1750.  The 
Gatehouse,  hardly  less  venerable,  but  regarded  as  '  that 
very  dismal  horrid  gaol,'  ^  fell  in  1777,  before  the  indig- 
nation of  Dr.  Johnson,  '  against  a  building  so  offensive 
that  it  ought  to  be  pulled  down,  for  it  disgraces  the 
present  magnificence  of  the  capital,  and  is  a  continual 
nuisance  to  neighbours  and  passengers.'  ^  The  Clock- 
tower  of  Westminster  Palace  was  a  heap  of  ruins.^  In 
1715  the  Great  Bell,  which  used  to  remind  the  Judges 
of  Westminster  of  their  duty,  was  purchased  for  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral.  On  its  way  through  Temple  Bar,  as 
if  in  indignation  at  being  torn  from  its  ancient  home,^ 
it  rolled  off  the  carriage,  and  received  such  injury  as  to 
require  it  to  be  recast.  The  inscription  round  its  rim 
still  records  that  it  came  from  the  ruins  of  Westminster. 
The  mullions  of  the  Cloisters  would  have  perished  but 
for  the  remonstrance  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood."  We  have  seen  how  narrowly  the  tomb  of 
Aymer  de  Valence  escaped  at  the  erection  of  Wolfe's 
monument,  and  how,  at  the  funeral  of  the  Duchess  of 
Northumberland,  the  tomb  of  Philippa,  Duchess  of 
York,  was  removed  to  make  way  for  the  family  vault 

1  Gent.  Mag.  1799,  pt.  W.  p.  115  ;  Walpole,  vi.  223. 

2  Gwyn's  London  and  Westminster  (1766),  p.  90.     Chapter  Order, 
July  10,  1776. 

3  See  Chapter  Book,  March  3,  1708. 

*  See  London  Spy,  p.  187. 

*  Westminster  Improvements,  p.  15.     See  Chapter  V.  p.  29. 

®  Six  windows  were  already  gone.      {Gent.  Mag.  1799,  pt.  i.  p. 
447.) 


GENERAL  SUMMARY.  349 

of  the  Percys,  and  the  screen  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  Ed- 
mund and  the  canopy  of  John  of  Eltham  were  totally 
destroyed.^ 

Yet,  amidst  all  this  neglect  and  misuse,  as  we  think 
it,  a  feeling  for  the  Abbey  more  tender,  probably,  than 
had  existed  in  the  time  of  its  highest  splen-    ^^^^^^.^i 
dour  and  wealth,  had  been  gradually  springing    fue^^'lyaJ 
up.     From  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century    ^^' 
we  trace  the  stream  of  visitors,  which  has  gone  on  flow- 
ing ever  since.     Already  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  and 
James  I.,  distinguished  foreigners  were  taken  '  in  gondo- 
las to  the  beautiful  and  large  Koyal  Church 

°  "^  1592. 

called  Westminster,'  and  saw  the  Chapel '  built 
eighty  years  ago  by  King  Henry  VII.,'  the  Eoyal 
Tombs,  the  Coronation  Stone,  the  Sword  of  Edward  III., 
and  '  the  English  ministers  in  white  surplices  such  as 
the  Papists  wear,'  singing  alternately  while  the  organ 
played.  Camden's  printed  book  on  the  Monuments  was 
sold  by  the  vergers.^  Possibly  (we  can  hardly  say 
more),  it  was  in  Westminster  ^  that  the  youthful  Milton 
let  his 

Due  feet  never  fail 

To  walk  the  studious  cloisters  pale, 

And  love  the  high-embowed  roof, 

With  antick  pillars  massy  proof, 

And  storied  windows  richly  dight, 

Casting  a  dim  religious  light. 

It  is  certain  that,  in  the  beginning  of  the  next  cen- 
tury, the  feeling  had  generally  spread.  The  coarse 
*  London  Spy,'  when  he  was  conveyed  from  the  narrow 

1  Gent.  Mag.  1799,  pt.  ii.  p.  733. 

2  Rye's  England  as  seen  by  Foreigners,  pp.  9,  10,  132,  139. 

3  The  choice  lies  between  We.stminster,  Old  St.  Paul's,  or  King's 
College,  Cambridge. 


350        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   EEFOEMATION. 

passage  wliich  brought  him  in  sight  of  'that  ancient 
and  renowned  structure  of  the  Abbey  '  to  which  he  was 
an  utter  stranger,  could  not  behold  the  outside  of  the 
awful  pile  without  reverence  and  amazement.  '  The 
whole  seemed  to  want  nothing  that  could  render  it 
truly  venerable.'  After  going  to  '  afternoon  prayers ' 
in  the  Choir,  '  amongst  many  others,  to  pay  with  rever- 
ence that  duty  which  becomes  a  Christian,'  and  having 
'  their  souls  elevated  by  the  divine  harmony  of  the 
music,  far  above  the  common  pitch  of  their  devotions,' 
they  '  made  an  entrance  into  the  east  end  of  the  Abbey, 
which  was  locked,  and  payed  a  visit  to  the  venerable 
shrines  and  sacred  monuments  of  the  dead  nobility ; ' 
and  then  'ascended  some  stone  steps,  which  brought 
them  to  a  Chapel,  that  looks  so  far  exceeding  human 
excellence,  that  a  man  would  think  it  was  knit  together 
by  the  fingers  of  angels,  pursuant  to  the  directions  of 
Omnipotence.'  ^  The  testimony  of  Addison,  Steele,  and 
Goldsmith  need  not  be  repeated.  Lord  Hervey  was 
taken  by  a  Bishop  '  to  Westminster  Abbey  to  show  a 
pair  of  old  brass  gates  to  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,'  on 
which  he  enlarged  with  such  '  particular  detail  and  en- 
comium,' before  George  II.  and  Queen  Caroline,  that 
the  intelligent  Queen  was  '  extremely  pleased  and  the 
King  stopped  the  conversation  short'  Burke  '  visited 
the  Abbey  soon  after  his  arrival  in  town,'  and  '  the 
moment  he  entered  he  felt  a  kind  of  awe  pervade  his 
mind,  which  he  could  not  describe ;  the  very  silence 
seemed  sacred.'  ^  Then  arose  the  decisive  verdict  from 
an  unexpected  quarter.  In  Horace  Walpole  the  despised 
mediaeval  taste  found  its  first  powerful  patron. 

Oh !  happy  man  that  shows  the  tombs,  said  I, 
1  London  Spy,  p.  178.  ^  Prior's  Life  of  Burke,  i.  39. 


GENERAL  SUMMAEY.  851 

■was  a  favourite  quotation  of  the  worldly  courtier.^  '  I 
love  Westminster  Abbey,'  he  writes,  '  much  more  than 
levees  and  circles,  and  —  no  treason,  I  hope  —  am  fond 
enough  of  kings  as  soon  as  they  have  a  canopy  of  stone 
over  them.'  He  was  consulted  by  the  successive  Deans 
on  the  changes  proposed  in  the  Abbey.  He  prevented, 
as  we  have  seen,  the  destruction  of  Valence's  tomb, 
and  '  suggested  an  octagon  canopy  of  open  arches,  like 
Chichester  Cross,  to  be  elevated  on  a  flight  of  steps 
with  the  Altar  in  the  middle,  and  semicircular  arcades 
to  join  the  stalls,  so  that  the  Confessor's  Chapel  and 
tomb  may  be  seen  through  in  perspective.'  ^  In  the 
whole  building  he  delighted  to  see  the  reproduction  of 
an  idea  which  seemed  to  have  perished.  '  In  St.  Peter's 
at  IJome  one  is  convinced  that  it  was  built  by  great 
princes.  In  Westminster  Abbey  one  thinks  not  of  the 
builder ;  the  religion  of  the  place  makes  the  first  im- 
pression, and,  though  stripped  of  its  shrines  and  altars, 
it  is  nearer  converting  one  to  Popery  than  all  the  reg- 
ular pageantry  of  Eoman  domes.  One  must  have  taste 
to  be  sensible  of  the  beauties  of  Grecian  architecture : 

1  The  line  is  from  Pope's  Imitation  of  Donne's  Satire. 

'Then,  happy  man  who  shows  the  Tombs  ! '  said  I, 

'  He  dwells  amidst  the  royal  family  ; 

He  every  day  from  king  to  king  can  walk, 

Of  all  our  Harries,  all  our  Edwards  talk  ; 

And  get,  by  speaking  truth  of  monarchs  dead, 

What  few  can  of  the  living  —  ease  and  bread.' 

The  original  in  Donne  is  this :  — 

•  At  Westminster,' 
Said  I,  '  the  man  that  keeps  the  Abbey-tombs, 
And,  for  his  iirice,  doth  with  whoever  comes 
Of  all  our  Harrys  and  our  Edwards  talk. 
From  king  to  king  and  all  their  kin  can  walk. 
Your  ears  shall  hear  nought  but  kings  ;  your  eyes  meet 
Kings  only  ;  the  way  to  it  is  King's  Street' 

2  Suggested  to  Dean  Pearce  (Walpole's  Letters,  vi.  223),  and  to 
Dean  Thomas  (ibid.  vii.  306), 


352         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

one  only  wants  passion  to  feel  Gothic.  Gothic  churches 
infuse  superstition,  Grecian  temples  admiration.  The 
Papal  See  amassed  its  wealth  by  Gothic  cathedrals, 
and  displays  it  in  Grecian  temples.'  ^ 

In  the  last  years  of  the  eighteenth  century,  John 
Carter,  the  author  of  'Ancient  Sculptures  and  Paint- 
carter.the  ings.'  was  the  Old  Mortality  of  the  past  glories 
autiquaiy.  ^£  Westminster.  There  is  a  mixture  of  pathos 
and  humour  in  the  alternate  lamentations  over  the  '  ex- 
crescences which  disfigure  and  destroy  the  fair  form  of 
the  structure,'  and  '  the  heartfelt  satisfaction  '  with  which 
he  hangs  over  the  remnants  of  antiquity  still  unchanged. 
He  probably  was  the  first  to  recognise  the  singular  ex- 
emption of  the  Abbey  from  the  discolouring  whitewash 
which,  from  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages,  swept  over 
almost  all  the  great  buildings  of  Europe.^  'There  is 
one  religious  structure  in  the  kingdom  that  stands  in 
its  original  finishing,  exhibiting  all  those  modest  hues 
that  the  native  appearance  of  the  stone  so  pleasingly 
bestows.  This  structure  is  the  Abbey  Church  of  West- 
minster ....  There  I  find  my  happiness  the  most 
complete.  This  Church  has  not  been  whitewashed.'  ^ 
In  his  complaints  against  the  monuments  setting  at 
nought  the  old  idea  '  that  the  statues  of  the  deceased 

1  Walpole,  i.  108. 

2  The  practice  of  whitewashing  was,  however,  not  peculiar  to 
modern  times  or  Protestant  countries.  Even  the  Norman  nave  of 
the  Abbey  was  whitewashed  in  the  time  of  Edward  III.  (Gleanings, 
53.)  The  pompous  inscription  over  the  door  of  Toledo  Cathedral  re- 
cords that  in  the  year  after  that  in  which  '  Granada  was  taken  with 
the  whole  kingdom,  by  the  King  our  Lord  Don  Ferdinand  and  Donna 
Isabella  in  the  Archiepiscopate  of  the  Most  Reverend  Lord  Don  Pedro 
Gonzales  de  Mendoza,  Cardinal  of  Spain,  and  all  the  Jews  driven  out 
from  all  the  kingdoms  of  Castile,  Arragon,  and  Sicily,  this  holy 
church  was  .  .  .  repaired  and  whitewashed  by  Francis  Ferdinand  of 
Cuen^a,  Archdeacon  of  Calatrava.' 

8  Gent.  Mag.  1799,  pt  ii.  p.  66. 


GENERAL  SUMMARY.  353 

should  front  the  east,' ^  and  against  the  'whimsical 
infatuation  of  their  costumes;^  in  his  ideal  of  the 
architect  who  should  watch  with  anxious  care  the  state 
of  the  innumerable  parts  of  the  pile ; '  ^  in  his  protest 
against  Queen  Anne's  altar-screen,  '  as  ill-calculated  for 
its  place  as  a  mitre  in  the  centre  of  a  salt-cellar ; '  *  in 
his  enthusiastic  visions  of  '  religious  curiosities,  myriads 
of  burning  tapers,  clouds  of  incense,  gorgeous  vestments, 
glittering  insignia,  Scriptural  banners'^  —  we  see  the 
first  rise  of  that  wave  of  antiquarian,  esthetic,  architec- 
tural sentiment  which  has  since  overspread  the  whole 
of  Christendom.  Its  gradual  advance  may  be  detected 
even  in  the  dry  records  of  the  Chapter,*^  and  has  gone 
on,  with  increasing  volume,  to  our  own  time.  The 
Chapel  of  Henry  VII.,  on  the  appeal  of  Dean  Vincent, 
was  repaired  by  Parliament.  The  houses  on  the  north 
side  of  the  Chapel  were  pulled  down."  He  too  removed 
the  huge  naval  monuments  which  obstructed  the  pillars 
of  the  Nave.s  xhe  North  Transept,  at  the  petition  of 
the  Speaker,  was  for  a  time  used  ^  for  a  service  for  the 
children  of  the  school  in  Orchard  Street.  Free  admis- 
sion was  given  to  the  larger  part  of  the  Abbey  under 


1  Gent.  Mag.  1799,  pp.  669,  670.  ^  \U([,  p.  ioi6. 

3  Ibid.  pt.  ii.  p.  735.  *  Il^iJ-  P-  '36. 

s  Ibid.  pt.  ii.  p.  861. 

6  No  monument  was  to  be  erected  before  submitting  a  draught  of  it 
to  the  Chapter.  (Chapter  Book,  May  16,  1729.)  The  erection  of 
Monk's  monument  was  at  first  'unanimously'  prevented,  'as  hiding 
the  curious  workmanship  of  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel.'  (Ibid.  January  1, 
1739.)  No  monument  was  henceforth  to  be  attached  to  any  of  the 
pillars.  (Ibid.  June  6,  1807.)  The  shield  and  saddle  of  Henry  V. 
were  restored  to  their  place  over  the  King's  tomb.     ( Gent.  Mag.  1799; 

pt.  i.  p.  880.) 

7  Chapter  Book,  1804.     Conti's  Westminster,  p.  268. 

8  Vincent's  Sermons,  vol.  i.  Pref.  p.  liii. 

9  Dec.  28,  1812. 
VOL.  II.  —  ^3 


854        THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORxMATIOX. 

Dean  Ireland.  ^  The  Transepts  were  opened  to  the 
Choir  under  Dean  Buckland.  The  Nave  was  used  for 
special  evening  services  under  Dean  Trench.  The 
Eeredos,  of  alabaster  and  mosaic,  was  raised  under  the 
care  of  the  Subdean  (Lord  John  Thynne),  to  whose 
watchful  zeal  for  more  than  tliirty  years  the  Abbey  was 
so  greatly  indebted.  Future  historians  must  describe 
the  vicissitudes  of  taste,  and  the  improvements  of 
opportunities,  which  may  mark  the  concluding  years  of 
the  nineteenth  century. 

Two  general  reflections  may  close  this  imperfect 
sketch  of  Westminster  Abbey  before  and  since  the 
Eeformation :  — 

I.  It  would  ill  become  those  who  have  inherited  the 
magnificent  pile  which  has  been  entrusted  to  their  care 
to  undervalue  the  grandeur  of  the  age  which  could  have 
produced  an  institution  capable  of  such  complex  devel- 
opment, and  a  building  of  such  matchless  beauty. 
Here,  as  often,  '  other  men  have  laboured,  and  we  have 
entered  into  their  labours.'  But  —  comparing  the 
Abbots  with  the  Deans  and  Headmasters  of  Westmin- 
ster, the  Monks  with  the  Prebendaries,  and  with  the 
Scholars  of  the  College  —  the  benefits  which  have  been 
conferred  on  the  literature  and  the  intelligence  of 
compensa-  England  since  the  Eeformation  may  fairly 
tion  of  gifts,  i^g  weighed  in  the  balance  against  the  archi- 
tectural prodigies  which  adorned  the  ages  before.  Whilst 
the  dignitaries  of  the  ancient  Abbey,  as  we  have  seen, 
hardly  left  any  moral  or  intellectual  mark  on  their  age, 
there  have  been  those  in  the  catalogue  of  former  Deans, 
Prebendaries,  and  Masters  —  not  to  speak  of  innumer- 

1  Authorised  guides  were  first  appointed  in  1826,  and  the  nave  and 
transepts  opened,  and  the  fees  lowered  in  1841,  at  the  suggestion  of 
Lord  John  Thynne. 


CONCLUSION.  355 

able  names  among  the  scholars  of  Westminster — who 
will  probably  never  cease  to  awaken  a  recollection  as 
long  as  the  British  commonwealth  lasts.  The  English 
and  Scottish  Confessions  of  1561  and  1643,  the  English 
Prayer  Book  of  1662,  and  the  American  Prayer  Book  of 
1789  —  which  derived  their  origin,  in  part  at  least,  from 
our  Precincts  —  have,  whatever  be  their  defects,  a  more 
enduring  and  lively  existence  than  any  result  of  the 
mediaeval  Councils  of  Westminster.  And  if  these  same 
Precincts  have  been  disturbed  by  the  personal  contests 
of  Williams  and  Atterbury,  and  by  the  unseemly  con- 
tentions of  Convocation,  more  than  an  equivalent  is 
found  in  the  violent  scenes  in  St.  Catherine's  Chapel, 
the  intrigues  attendant  on  the  election  of  the  Abbots, 
and  the  deplorable  scandals  of  the  Sanctuary.  Abbot 
Eeckenham  believed  that,^  '  so  long  as  the  fear  and 
dread  of  the  Christian  name  remained  in  England,  the 
privilege  of  sanctuary  in  Westminster  would  remain 
undisturbed.'  We  may  much  more  confidently  say, 
that  '  as  long  as  the  fear  and  dread  of  Christian  justice 
and  charity  remain,'  those  unhappy  privileges  will 
never  be  restored,  either  here  or  anywhere  else.^  These 
differences,  it  is  true,  belong  to  the  general  advance  of 
knowledge  and  power  which  has  pervaded  the  whole  of 
England  since  the  sixteenth  century.  But  not  the  less 
are  they  witnesses  to  the  value  of  the  Reformation  — 

1  See  Appendix  to  Chapter  VI. 

2  For  the  moral  state  of  the  district  surrounding  the  Abbey  before 
and  since  the  Reformation,  a  brief  sketch  has  been  given  by  one  whose 
lifelong  residence,  and  persevering  promotion  of  all  good  works  in 
the  neighbourhood,  well  entitle  him  to  the  name  of  '  the  Lay  Bishop 
of  Westminster.'  See  a  statement  published  in  1850,  by  Sir  William 
Page  Wood  (afterwards  Lord  Hatherley),  with  a  Preface  on  the  West- 
minster Spiritual  Aid  Fund,  which  was  then  set  on  foot  and  since 
kept  up  by  the  nnwearied  energy  of  Dr.  Christopher  Wordsworth, 
then  Canon  of  Westminster,  now  Bishop  of  Lincoln. 


356         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   EEEORMATION. 

not  the  less  a  compensation  for  the  inevitable  loss  of 
those  marvellous  gifts,  which  passed  away  from  Europe, 
Catholic  and  Protestant  alike,  with  the  close  of  the 
Middle  Ages. 

What  is  yet  in  store  for  the  Abbey  none  can  say. 
Much,  assuredly,  remains  to  be  done  to  place  it  on  a 
level  with  the  increasing  demands  of  the  human  mind, 
with  the  changing  wants  of  the  English  people,  with 
the  never-ending  '  enlargement  of  the  Church,'  for  which 
every  member  of  the  Chapter  is  on  his  installation 
pledged  to  labour.^ 

It  is  the  natural  centre  of  religious  life  and  truth,  if  not 
to  the  whole  metropolis,  at  least  to  the  city  of  West- 
minster. It  is  the  peculiar  home  of  the  entire  Anglo- 
Saxon  race,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  no  less 
than  on  this.  It  is  endeared  both  to  the  conforming 
and  to  the  nonconforming  members  of  the  National 
Church.  It  combines  the  full  glories  of  Mediaeval  and 
of  Protestant  England.  It  is  of  all  our  purely  ecclesi- 
astical institutions  the  one  which  most  easily  lends  itself 
to  union  and  reconcilation,  and  is  with  most  difficulty 
turned  to  party  or  polemical  uses.  By  its  history,  its 
position,  and  its  independence,  it  thus  becomes  in  the 
highest  and  most  comprehensive  sense  —  what  it  has 
been  well  called  —  '  the  Fortress  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land,' 2  if  only  its  garrison  be  worthy  of  it.  Whilst  West- 
minster Abbey  stands,  the  Church  of  England  stands. 

1  'That  those  things  which  he  hath  promised,  and  which  his  duty 
requires,  he  may  faithfully  perform,  to  the  praise  and  glory  of  the 
name  of  God,  and  the  enlargement  of  His  Church.'  —  Prayer  at  the  In- 
stallation of  a  Dean  or  a  Canon. 

2  '  Westminster  Abbey  is  the  fortress  of  the  Church  of  England, 
and  you  are  its  garrison,'  was  the  saying  of  a  wise  foreign  King  in 
speaking  to  a  modern  Dean  of  Westminster.  '  In  vain  has  this  splen- 
did church  been  built  and  sculptured  anew,'  was  the  like   saying, 


CONCLUSION.  357 

So  long  as  its  stones  are  not  sold  to  tlie  first  chance 
purchaser;  so  long  as  it  remains  a  sanctuary,  not  of 
any  private  sect,  but  of  the  English  people  ;  so  long  as 
the  great  Council  of  the  nation  which  assisted  at  its 
first  dedication  recognises  its  religious  purpose  —  so 
long  the  separation  between  the  English  State  and  the 
English  Church  will  not  have  been  accomplished. 

II.  This  leads  us  to  remember  that  the  one  common 
element  which  binds  together,  '  by  natural  piety,'  the 
past  changes  and  the  future  prospects  of  the  continuity 
Abbey,  has  been  the  intention,  carried  on  from  of  worship, 
its  Founder  to  the  present  day,  that  it  should  be  a 
place  dedicated  for  ever  to  the  worship  of  God.  Whilst 
the  interest  in  the  other  events  and  localities  of  the 
building  has  slackened  with  the  course  of  time,  the 
interest  connected  with  its  sacred  services  has  found 
expression  in  all  the  varying  forms  of  the  successive 
vicissitudes  which  have  passed  over  the  religious  mind 
of  England.  The  history  of  the  '  Altar  '  ^  of  Westmin- 
ster Abbey  is  almost  the  history  of  the  English  Church. 

though  in  a  somewhat  different  mood,  of  Henry  III.  to  its  conten- 
tious Abbot,  '  if  the  living  stones  of  its  head  and  members  are  engaged 
in  unseemly  strife.'     (Matt.  Paris,  a.d.  1250.) 

1  The  popular  name  of  'Altar'  is  nowhere  applied  to  the  Holy 
Table  in  the  Liturgy  or  Articles.  But  it  is  used  of  the  Table  of 
Westminster  Abbey  in  the  Coronation  Service  issued  by  order  of  the 
Privy  Council  at  the  beginning  of  each  reign.  It  is  there  preserved 
with  other  antique  customs  which  have  disappeared  everywhere  else. 
In  no  other  place,  and  on  no  other  occasion,  could  the  word  be  applied 
so  consistently  with  the  tenor  of  the  Reformed  Liturgy.  If  an  Altar 
be  a  place  of  Sacrifice,  and  if  (as  is  well  known)  the  only  Sacrifices 
acknowledged  in  the  English  Prayer  Book  are  those  of  praise  and 
thanksgiving,  and  still  more  emphatically  of  human  hearts  and  lives  — 
then  there  is  a  certain  fitness  in  this  one  application  of  the  name  ot 
Altar.  For  here  it  signifies  the  place  and  time  in  which  are  offered 
up  the  Sacrifice  of  the  Prayers  and  thanksgivings  of  the  whole  Eng- 
lish nation,  and  the  Sacrifice  of  the  highest  life  in  this  church  and 
realm,  to  the  good  of  man  and  the  honour  of  God. 


358         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE  EEFORMATION. 

The  Monuments  and  Chapels  have  remained  compara- 
tively unchanged  except  by  the  natural  decay  of  time. 
The  Holy  Table  and  its  accompaniments  alone  have 
The  altar  kept  pacc  with  the  requirements  of  each  suc- 
century,  cecdiug  pcriod.  The  simple  feeling  of  the 
early  Middle  Ages  was  represented  in  its  original  posi- 
tion, when  it  stood,  as  in  most  churches  of 

of  the  13tb, 

that  time,  at  the  eastern  extremity.  In  the 
changes  of  the  thirteenth  century,  which  so  deeply 
affected  the  whole  framework  of  Christian  doctrine,  the 
new  veneration  for  the  local  saint  and  for  the  Virgin 
Mother,  whilst  it  produced  the  Lady  Chapel  and  the 
Confessor's  Shrine,  thrust  forward  the  High  Altar  to 
its  present  place  in  front  of  St.  Edward's  Chapel.  The 
foreign  art  of  the  period  left  its  trace  in  the  richly- 
painted   frontal,^   the   only   remnant   of   the   gorgeous 

Mediceval  Altar.^     When,  in  the  fifteenth  cen- 

of  the  15th, 

tury,  reflecting  the  increasing  divisions  and 
narrowing  tendencies  of  Christendom,  walls  of  partition 
sprang  up  everywhere  across  the  Churches  of  the  West, 
the  Screen  was  erected  which  parted  asunder  the  Altar 
oftheRefor.  ^^om  the  wliolc  eastcm  portion  of  the  Abbey, 
mation,  ^j^  |.]-^g  Reformation  and  during  the  Common- 
wealth, the  wooden  movable  Table  ^  which  was  brought 
down  into  the  body  of  the  Church,  reproduced,  though 
of  the  Res-  by  a  probably  undesigned  conformity,  the 
ora  lOQ,       primitive  custom  both  of  East  and  West.     Its 

of  Queen  ■•• 

Anne,  rctum  to  its  morc  easterly  position  marks  the 

triumph  of  the  Laudian  usages  under  the  Stuarts.  Its 
adornment  by  the  sculptures  and  marbles  of  Queen 
Anne  follows  the  development  of  classical  art  in  that 

^  The  fate  of  the  Altar  and  the  Table  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel  has 
been  already  described  in  p.  207.  "^  Gleanings,  105-111. 

^  This  Table  is  probably  the  one  now  in  the  Confessor's  Chapel. 


CONCLUSION.  359 

our  Augustan  age.^  The  plaster  restoration  of  the  origi- 
nal Screen  by  Bernasconi,  in  1824,  indicates  the  first 
faint  rise  of  the  revival  of  Gothic  art.  At  its  elevation 
was  present  a  young  architect,'^  whose  name  oftheioth 
has  since  been  identified  with  the  full  de-  century. 
velopment  of  the  like  taste  in  our  own  time,  and  who 
in  the  design  of  the  new  Screen  and  new  altar,  erected 
in  1867,  has  united  the  ancient  forms  of  the  fifteenth 
century  with  the  simpler  and  loftier  faith  of  the  nine- 
teenth. And  now  the  contrast  of  its  newness  and 
youth  with  the  venerable  mouldering  forms  around  it,  is 
but  the  contrast  of  the  perpetual  growth  of  the  soul  of 
religion  with  the  stationary  or  decaying  memories  of 
its  external  accompaniments.  We  sometimes  think 
that  it  is  the  Transitory  alone  which  changes,  the 
Eternal  which  stands  still.  Bather  the  Transitory 
stands  still,  fades,  and  falls  to  pieces :  the  Eternal  con- 

1  This  Altarpiece,  once  at  Whitehall,  and  then  at  Hampton  Court, 
was  then,  throujyh  the  influence  of  Lord  Godolphiu,  given  by  Queen 
Anne  to  the  Abbey,  where  it  remained  till  the  reign  of  George  IV. 
(See  Neale,  ii.  38  ;  Plate  xlii.)     The  order  for  its  removal  appears  in 

the  Chapter  Book,  May  29,  1823;  j  ^^j^i^  9^^^'  }  1824.  It  was  then 
given  by  Dr.  King,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  who  had  been  Prebendary  of 
"Westminster,  to  the  parish  church  of  Buruham,  near  Bridgewater,  of 
which  he  had  been  vicar,  and  in  which  it  still  remains. 

2  This  was  Sir  Gilbert  Scott's  earliest  recollection  of  Westminster 
Abbey.  The  frieze  in  the  new  Screen  has  been  filled  by  Mr.  Armstead 
with  groups  representing  the  Life  of  our  Lord  ;  the  larger  niches  with 
St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  as  the  patron  saints  of  the  Church,  and  Moses 
and  David  as  representing  the  lawgivers  and  the  poets;  the  smaller 
niches  with  the  four  Prophets,  supporting  the  four  Evangelists.  The 
mosaic  of  the  Last  Supper  is  by  Salviati,  from  a  design  of  Messrs. 
Clayton  and  Bell.  The  cedar  table  was  carved  by  Farmer  and  Brind- 
ley,  with  biblical  subjects  suggested  by  Archdeacon  (since  Bishop) 
Wordsworth.  The  black  marble  slab  (originally  ordered  March  23, 
1824,  and  apparently  taken  from  the  tomb  of  Anne  of  Cleves)  is  the 
only  part  of  the  former  structure  remaining.  The  work  was  erected 
chiefly  from  the  payments  of  the  numerous  visitors  at  the  Great  Exhi- 
bition of  1862. 


360         THE   ABBEY   SINCE   THE   REFORMATION. 

tinues,  by  changing  its  form  in  accordance  with  the 

movement  of  advancing  ages. 

The  successive  Pulpits  of  the  Abbey,  if  not  equally 

expressive  of  the  changes  which  it  has  witnessed,  carry 

The  Pulpit  on  the  sound  of  many  voices,  heard  with  deliiiht 
of  the  -  ,      .      ,    .      .  '  .  ° 

Abbots,        and  wonder  m  their  time.    -No  vestige  remains 

of  the  old  mediaeval  platform  whence  the  Abbots  urged 

of  the  Tudor  the  reluctaut  court  of  Henry  III.  to  the  Cru- 

Divines,  i  -r>  i  -n      i        c         -i 

of  the  sades.    But  we  have  still  the  fragile  structure 

Caroline  ^   ■    ■,      r^  i 

Divines,  from  whicli  Craiimer  must  have  preached  at 
the  coronation  and  funeral  of  his  royal  godson ;  ^  and 
the  more^  elaborate  carving  of  that  which  resounded 
with  the  passionate  appeals,  at  one  time  of  Baxter, 
Howe,  and  Owen,  at  other  times  of  Heylin,  Williams, 
South,  and  Barrow.  That  from  which  was  poured 
oftheisth  forth  the  oratory  of  the  Deans  of  the  eigh- 
century,  tcentli  cciitury,  from  Atterbury  to  Horsley,  is 
now  in  Trotterscliffe  ^  church,  near  Maidstone.  The 
oftheioth     marble  pulpit  in  the  Nave,  given  in  1859  to 

century  iu  '■       '-  '~ 

theXave.  commemorate  the  beginning  of  the  Special 
Services,  through  which  Westminster  led  the  way  in 
re-animating  the  silent  naves  of  so  many  of  our  Cathe- 
drals, has  thus  been  the  chief  vehicle  of  the  varied 
teaching  of  those  who  have  been  well  called '  the  People's 
Preachers  : '  '  Vox  quidem  dissona,  sed  una  religio.'  * 

It  may  be  said  that  these  sacred  purposes  are  shared 
by  the  Abbey  with  the  humblest  church  or  chapel  in  the 
kingdom.  But  there  is  a  peculiar  charm  added  to  the 
thought  here,  by  the  reflection  that  on  it,  as  on  a  thin 

1  Now  in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel. 

2  Now  in  the  Triforium. 

^  In  its  stead,  in  1827,  was  erected  in  the  Choir  another,  which  in 
1851  was  removed  to  Shorehara,  to  give  place  to  the  present. 
*  St.  Jerome,  0pp.  i.  p.  82. 


CONCLUSION.  361 

(at  times  almost  invisible)  thread,  has  hung  every  other 
interest  which  has  accumulated  around  the  building. 
Break  that  thread;  and  the  whole  structure  becomes 
an  unmeaning  labyrinth.  Extinguish  that  sacred  fire  ; 
and  the  arched  vaults  and  soaring  pillars  would  assume 
the  sickly  hue  of  a  cold  artifical  Valhalla,  and  '  the  rows 
of  warriors  and  the  walks  of  kings'  would  be  trans- 
formed mto  the  conventional  galleries  of  a  lifeless 
museum. 

By  the  secret  nurture  of  individual  souls,  which  have 
found  rest  in  its  services  ^  or  meditated  ^  in  its  silent 
nooks,  or  been  inspired,  whether  in  the  thick  of  battle, 
or  in  the  humblest  ^  walks  of  life,  by  the  thought  or  the 
sight  of  its  towers ;  by  the  devotions  of  those  who  in 

1  'I  went,'  wrote  De  Foe,  on  Sept.  24,  1725,  'into  the  Abbey,  and 
there  I  found  the  Royal  tombs  and  the  Monuments  of  the  Dead  re- 
maining and  increased;  but  the  gazers,  the  readers  of  the  epitaphs, 
and  the  country  hadies  to  see  the  tombs  were  strangely  decreased  in 
number.  Nay,  the  appearance  of  the  Choir  was  diminished ;  for  set- 
ting aside  the  families  of  the  clergy  resident  and  a  very  few  more,  the 
place  was  forsaken.  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  then  a  man  nun/  be  devout  loith 
the  less  disturbance ;  "  so  I  icent  in,  said  my  praijers,  and  then  took  a 
walk  in  the  park."     (  Works,  in.  427.) 

■^  So,  amongst  others,  the  poet-painter  Blake.  Sir  Henry  Taylor 
describes  the  first  visit  of  Webster,  the  American  orator,  to  West- 
minster Abbey.  'He  walked  in,  looked  about  him,  and  burst  into 
tears.'     {EnrjUsh  Poets,  ii.  p.  2.31.) 

3  See  the  touching  story  of  the  famous  Baptist  Missionary  Marsh- 
man,  who  began  his  career  as  a  bookseller's  shoi>boy  :  — 

'  The  labour  of  trudging  through  the  streets,  day  by  day,  with  a 
heavy  parcel  of  books,  became  at  length  disheartening ;  and  having 
been  one  day  sent  to  the  Duke  of  Grafton  with  three  folio  vols,  of 
Clarendon's  History,  he  began  to  give  way  to  melancholy,  and  as  he 
passed  Westminster  Abbey  laid  down  the  load  and  sobbed  atthe  thought 
that  there  was  no  higher  prospect  before  him  in  life  than  that  of  being 
a  bookseller's  porter;  but  looking  up  at  the  building,  and  recalling  to  mind 
the  noble  associations  connected  with  it,  he  brushed  away  his  tears,  replaced 
the  load  on  his  shoulders,  and  walked  on  with  a  light  heart,  determined  to 
bide  his  time.'  —  The  story  of  Carey,  Marshman,  and  Ward,  by  John 
Clark  Marshman,  p.  47. 


362        THE   ABBEY   SINCE  THE   REFORMATION. 

former  times,  it  may  be  in  much  ignorance,  have  had 
their  faith  kindled  by  dubious  shrine  or  relic ;  or,  in 
after  days,  caught  here  the  impassioned  words  of 
preachers  of  every  school ;  or  have  drunk  in  the 
strength  of  the  successive  forms  of  the  English  Liturgy  : 
—  by  these  and  such  as  these,  one  may  almost  say, 
through  all  the  changes  of  language  and  government, 
this  giant  fabric  has  been  sustained,  when  the  leaders 
of  the  ecclesiastical  or  political  world  would  have  let 
it  pass  away. 

It  was  the  hope  of  the  Founder,  and  the  belief  of  his 
age,  that  on  St.  Peter's  Isle  of  Thorns  was  planted  a 
ladder,  on  which  angels  might  be  seen  ascending  and 
descending  from  the  courts  of  heaven.  What  is  fan- 
tastically expressed  in  that  fond  dream  has  a  solid 
foundation  in  the  brief  words  in  which  the  most  majes- 
tic of  English  divines  has  described  the  nature  of 
Christian  worship.  '  What,'  he  says, '  is  the  assembling 
of  the  Church  to  learn,  but  the  receiving  of  angels 
descended  from  above  —  what  to  pray,  but  the  sending 
of  angels  upwards  ?  His  heavenly  inspirations  and  our 
holy  desires  are  so  many  angels  of  intercourse  and  com- 
merce between  God  and  us.  As  teaching  bringeth  us 
to  know  that  God  is  our  Supreme  Truth,  so  prayer 
testifieth  that  we  acknowledge  Him  our  Sovereign 
Good.'  1 

Such  a  description  of  the  purpose  of  the  Abbey, 
when  understood  at  once  in  its  fulness  and  simplicity, 
is,  we  may  humbly  trust,  not  a  mere  illusion.  Not 
surely  in  vain  did  the  architects  of  successive  genera- 
tions raise  this  consecrated  edifice  in  its  vast  and 
delicate  proportions,  more  keenly  appreciated  in  this 
our  day  than  in  any  other  since   it  first  was  built ; 

1  Hooker's  Ecd.  Pol.  v.  23. 


CONCLUSION.  363 

designed,  if  ever  were  any  forms  on  earth,  to  lift  the 
soul  heavenward  to  things  unseen.  Not  surely  in  vain 
has  our  English  language  grown  to  meet  the  highest 
ends  of  devotion  with  a  force  which  the  rude  native 
dialect  and  barbaric  Latin  of  the  Confessor's  age  could 
never  attain.  Not  surely  for  idle  waste  has  a  whole 
world  of  sacred  music  been  created,  which  no  ear  of 
Norman  or  Plantagenet  ever  heard,  nor  skill  of  Saxon 
harper  or  Celtic  minstrel  ever  achieved.  Not  surely 
for  nothing  has  the  knowledge  of  the  will  of  God 
steadily  increased,  century  by  century,  through  the 
better  understanding  of  the  Bible,  of  history,  and  of 
nature.  Not  in  vain,  surely,  has  the  heart  of  man  kept 
its  freshness  whilst  the  world  has  been  waxing  old,  and 
the  most  restless  and  inquiring  intellects  clung  to  the 
belief  that  'the  Everlasting  arms  are  still  beneath  us,' 
and  that  'prayer  is  the  potent  inner  supplement  of 
noble  outward  life.'  Here,  if  anywhere,  the  Christian 
worship  of  England  may  labour  to  meet  both  the 
strength  and  the  weakness  of  succeeding  ages,  to  inspire 
new  meaning  into  ancient  forms,  and  embrace  within 
itself  each  rising  aspiration  after  all  greatness,  human 
and  Divine. 

So  considered,  so  used,  the  Abbey  of  Westminster 
may  become  more  and  more  a  witness  to  that  one 
Sovereign  Good,  to  that  one  Supreme  Truth,  a  shadow 
of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land,  a  haven  of  rest  in  this 
tumultuous  world,  a  breakwater  for  the  waves  upon 
waves  of  human  hearts  and  souls  which  beat  unceas- 
ingly around  its  island  shores. 


TUE   APSE. 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


ACCOUNT  OF  THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  GRAVE  OF 
KING  JAMES   I. 

IT  is  obvious  that  the  interest  of  a  great  national  cemetery- 
like  Westminster  Abbey  depends,  in  great  measure,  on 
the  knowledge  of  the  exact  spots  where  the  illustrious  dead 
repose.  Strange  to  say,  this  was  not  so  easy  to  ascertain  as 
might  have  been  expected,  in  some  of  the  instances  where 
certainty  was  most  to  be  desired.  Not  only,  as  has  been 
already  noticed,  has  no  monument,  since  the  time  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  been  raised  over  any  regal  grave,  but  the  -n.^  ^^^^^ 
Eoyal  vaults  were  left  without  any  name  or  mark  The^vauit  of 
to  indicate  their  position.  In  two  cases,  however  ^®°''°^  "■ 
—  the  Georgian  vault  in  the  centre  of  the  Chapel,  and  that 
of  Charles  II.  in  the  south  aisle  —  the  complete  and  exact 
representation  in  printed  works,  and  in  the  Burial  Registers, 
left  no  doubt ;  and  over  these  accordingly,  in  1 866,  for  the 
first  time,  the  names  of  the  Royal  personages  were  inscribed 
immediately  above  the  sites  of  their  graves. 

It  also  happened  that  both  of  these  vaults  had  been  visited 
within  the  memory  of  man.  \yhilst  the  Georgian  vault  had 
been  seen  in  1837,  when  it  w^as  opened  by  Dean  Milman,^ 

1  See  Chapter  III.  There  is  an  interesting  description  of  this 
vault  iu  Knight's  Windsor  Guide  (1825),  pp.  187,  188,  as  seen  on  the 
removal  of  Prince  Alfred  and  Prince  Octavius. 

In  connection  with  this  vault  it  may  he  remarked  that  the  central 
part  of  the  marble  floor  is  unlike  the  ends  east  and  vs^est.  Perhaps  the 
following  conjecture  (furnished  by  Mr.  Poole)  may  explain  this  irregu- 
larity. Presuming  that  in  1699,  when,  as  recorded  on  the  pavement, 
it  was  arranged  for  Prebendary  Killigrew,  the  whole  of  the  area  was 


368  APPENDIX. 

for  the  removal  of  an  infant  child  of  the  King  of  Hanover  ; 
the  vault  of  Charles  II.  was  accidentally  disclosed  in  1867, 
in  the  process  of  laying  down  the  apparatus  for  warming  the 
Chapel  of  Henry  VII. 

In  removing  for  this  purpose  the  rubbish  under  the  floor 
of  the  fourth  or  eastern  bay  of  the  south  stalls  a  brick  arch 
The  vault  of  "^^^^  found.  From  its  position  it  was  evident  that 
Charles  II.  j^  ^^^^  ^|-jg  entrance  to  a  vault  made  prior  to  the 
erection  of  the  monument  of  General  Monk,  as  well  as  of  the 
stalls  of  the  eastern  bays  in  1725.  A  small  portion  of  the 
brickwork  was  removed,  so  as  to  effect  an  entrance  sufficiently 
large  to  crawl  in  a  horizontal  posture  into  the  vault. 

There  was  an  incline  toward  the  soutli,  ending  on  a  flight 
of  five  steps  terminating  on  the  floor  of  the  chamber.  Under- 
neath a  barrel  vault  of  stone,  laid  as  close  as  possible,  side  by 
side,  and  filling  the  whole  space  of  the  lower  chamber  from 
east  to  west,  were  the  coffins  of  Charles  II.,  Mary  II.,  Wil- 
liam III.,  Prince  George  of  Denmark,  and  Anue,^  with  the 

formed  of  the  same  large  lozenges  of  black  and  white  marble  as  are 
now  at  the  ends  only,  and  that  in  1737,  when  the  large  vault  was 
formed  by  King  George  II.,  and  nearly  all  the  marble  was  necessarily 
taken  up,  much  of  it  must  have  been  broken  and  otherwise  injured. 
(This  has  been  found  experimentally  to  be  the  unavoidable  conse- 
quence of  removing  any  of  the  pavement.)  In  order  to  utilise  the 
parts  that  were  so  injured,  it  would  be  necessary  to  reduce  the  size 
of  the  broken  lozenges,  and  thereby  alter  the  design.  Therefore,  the 
original  uninjured  lozenges  were  relaid  at  each  end,  and  the  broken 
ones  reduced  and  relaid  to  what  was  necessarily  a  different  design,  in 
the  middle  of  tlie  floor  and  above  the  direct  descent  into  the  vault. 
The  number  of  reduced  lozenges  nearly  coincides  with  the  original 
number  of  large  lozenges  displaced. 

1  (1)   COFFIN-PLATE   OF   KING   CHARLES   II. 

Depositum 

Augustissimi  et  Serenissimi  Principis 

Caroli  Secuudi 

Angliffi,  Scotia%  Francire  et  Hiberniaj  Eegis, 

Fidei  Defensoris,  etc. 

Obiit  sexto  die  Feb''  anno  D°'  1684, 

iEtatis  suae  quinquagesimo  quinto, 

Keguique  sui  tricesimo  septimo. 


THE   ROYAL  VAULTS.  369 

usual  urns  at  the  feet,  exactly  corresponding  with  the  plan  in 
Dart's  'Westminster  Abbey.'  The  wooden  cases  were  de- 
cayed, and  the  metal  fittings  to  their  tops,  sides,  and  angles 
were  mostly  loose  or  fallen.  The  lead  of  some  of  the  coffins, 
especially  that  of  Charles  II.,  was  much  corroded;  and  in 
this  case  the  plate  had  thus  fallen  sideways  into  the  interior 
of  the  coffin.     The  inscriptions  were  examined,  and  found  to 

(2)  COFFIN-PLATE   OF   QUEEN  MARY  IL 

Maria  Regina 

Gulielmi  III. 

M.B.  F.H.R.  F.D. 

Conjux  et  Regni  Censors 

Obiit  A.  R.  VI. 

Dec.  xxviii. 

JEt.  XXXII. 

On  the  urn :  — 

Depositum 

Regin£e  Mariae  II. 

Uxoris 

Gulielmi  III. 

C3)  corrm-PLATE  of  william  hi. 

Gulielraus  HI. 

Dei  Gra : 

M.B.  F.H.R.  F.D. 

Obiit  A.R.  XIV. 

A.D.  MDCCi.     Mar.  viii. 

JEt.  Lii.  ineunte. 

(4)  COFFIN-PLATE  OF  PRINCE  GEORGE  OF  DENMARK. 

Depositum 
Illustrissimi  et  Celsissimi  Principis  Georgii,  Daniffi  et  Norvegiffi,  nec- 
non  Gothorum  et  Vaudalorum  Principis  Hereditarii  Slesveci  Holsati«, 
Stormariae  Dithmarsiae  et  Cumbriae  ducis,  Oldenburgi  Delmenhorsti  et 
Candaliffi  Comitis  :  Ockinghamite  Baronis,  Serenissimi  ac  Potentissimi 
Christiani,  ejus  nominis  Quinti,  nuper  Danite  et  Norvegite,  etc.  Regis 
Fratris  unici :  ac  Serenissimse  et  ExcellentissimiE  Principis  Ann®,  Dei 
gratia  Magna  Britanniie,  Francioe,  et  Hibernise  Reginas,  Fidei  Defen- 
soris,  etc.  Mariti  prrecharissimi :  omnium  Reginae  exercituum  tarn 
mari  quam  terris  Pr;i3fecti  Supremi,  Magnaj  Britannias  et  HiberniaB, 
etc.  Summi  Admiralli,  Regalis  Castri  Dubris  Constabularii  et  Guber- 
natoris,  ac  Quinque  Portuum  Custodis,  Regis  Majestati  a  sanctioribus 
VOL.  II. — 24 


370 


APPENDIX. 


agree  almost  exactly  with  those  in  the  burial  books,  and  with 
those  in  Neale's  '  Westminster  Abbey.'  The  plates  are  of 
copper  gilt,  except  that  of  Charles  II.,  which  was  of  solid 
silver.  The  ornamental  metal  fittings  are  expensively  and 
tastefully  wrought,  especially  those  of  Queen  Mary. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  the  extreme  simplicity  of  the  in- 
scriptions of  William  III.  and  his  Queen,  —  in  which,  doubt- 

consiliis,  nobilissimique  Ordinis  Aureae  Periscelidis  Equitis.  Nati  Haf- 
nise,  DaniiB  Metrop.  II.  Ajjrilis  1653,  Denati  Kensiugtoniaj  28  Octobris 
1708,  ffitatis  su£e  56. 


BCTCTKL  fiomt'i  i/i 
BSBBHENT          % 

Tnren  or  yrAT.tT 

h 

epACE   mniEH            J_ 

1 

■L, 

P 

1    rtwni  weWKVrL 

(5)  COEEIN-PLATE   OF   QUEEN  AKNE. 

Depositum 

Sereuissimae  Potentissimae  et 

Excellentissiniffi  Principis  Annje 

Dei  Gratia  Magiire  Britannia; 

Francije  et  Hibernise  Reginas 

Fidei  Defensoris,  etc. 

NatEe  in  Palatio  Sti.  Jacobi  die 

Februarii  166f,  denatce 

Kensingtoniffi  primo  die  Augusti 

1714,  EBtatis  suae  quinqua- 
gesimo,  reguique  decimo  tertio. 


THE   ROYAL   VAULTS.  371 

less  by  the  King's  wish,  the  barest  initials  were  deemed  suffi- 
cient to  indicate  the  grandest  titles,  —  and  also  to  contrast 
this  Avith  the  elaborate  details  concerning  the  insignificant 
consort  of  Queen  Anne. 

This  accidental  disclosure  was  the  only  opportunity  which 
had  been  obtained  of  verifying  the  exact  positions  of  any  of 
the  Royal  graves ;  and  the  process  of  placing  inscriptions  in 
the  other  parts  of  the  Chapel  was  suspended,  from  the  uncer- 
tainty which  was  encountered  at  almost  every  turn. 

It  was  in  the  close  of  18G8,  that  Mr.  Doyne  C.  Bell,  of  the 
Privy  Purse  Office,  Buckingham  Palace,  who  was  engaged  in 
an  investigation  of  the  Royal  interments,  called  my  attention 
to  the  singular  discrepancies  of  the  narratives  and  documents 
relating  to  the  grave  of  James  I.  and  his  Queen,  perplexity 
According  to  Keepe,i  writing  in  1681,  only  fifty-six  thegrave°of 
years  after  the  burial  of  James,  they  were  interred  "'^"^^  ^■ 
together  '  in  a  vault  on  the  north  side  of  the  tomb  of  Kincr 
Henry  VII.'  Crull,^  in  1722,  repeats  the  same  statement. 
Dart,  in  1723,  is  more  precise,  but  not  consistent  with  him- 
self. In  one  passage  ^  he  describes  them  as  '  deposited  in  a 
vault  at  the  east  end  of  the  north  aisle '  (apparently  beside 
the  monuments  of  their  two  infant  daughters) ;  in  another,* 
that  they  '  rest  in  a  vault  by  the  old  Duke  of  Buckingham's 
[Sheffield's]  tomb,'  he  writes  '  8  ft.  10  in.  long,  4  ft.  1  in.  wide, 
3  feet  high.'  The  urn  of  Anne  of  Denmark  he  describes  as 
being  in  Monk's  vault,  and  conjectures  that  it  was  'placed 
there  when  this  vault  was  opened  for  the  bones  of  Edward  V. 
and  his  brother.'  The  Great  Wardrobe  Accounts  speak  gen- 
erally of  their  interment  in  Henry  VII. 's  Chapel  —  but  witli 
no  specific  information,  except  what  is  furnished  by  an  ac- 
count 'For  labour  and  charges  in  opening  the  vault  wherein 
His  Majesty's  body  is  laid,  and  for  taking  down  and  setting 
up  again  the  next  partition  in  the  Choir,  and  divers  great 
pews  of  wainscot  and  divers  other  seats.'  These  arrange- 
ments seemed  to  point  to  the  north  aisle,  where  the  partitions 
1  P.  103.  2  p.  113,  3  I.  p.  1(57.  4  IL  p.  54. 


372  APPENDIX. 

might  have  been  removed  for  the  sake  of  introducing  tha 
cotiius.  The  MSS.  records  at  the  Heralds'  College,  usually 
so  precise,  are  entirely  silent  as  to  the  spot  of  the  King's  in- 
terment, but  state  that  the  Queen  was  buried  in  '  a  little 
chapel  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  leading  into  King  Henry  VII.'s 

Chapel,  called ,'  (and  here  the  clerk,  having  carefully 

ruled  two  pencil  lines  in  order  to  insert  the  correct  descrip- 
tion of  the  chapel,  has  left  them  blank). 

These  accounts,  though  provokingly  vague,  all  pointed  to  a 
vault  common  to  the  King  and  Queen,  and  on  the  north  side 
of  the  Chapel,  though  diverging  in  their  indications  either  of 
a  vault  at  the  entrance  of  the  north  aisle  ;  or  at  the  east  end 
of  the  same  aisle ;  or  in  the  chapel  by  the  Sheffield  monu- 
ment. The  only  statement  to  the  contrary  was  one  brief  line 
in  the  Abbey  register,  to  the  effect  that  King  James  I.  was 
buried  '  in  King  Henry  VII.'s  vault.'  Even  this  was  contra- 
dicted by  an  entry  in  1718,  apparently  indicating  the  place 
of  the  coffin  of  Anne  of  Denmark  as  on  the  north  side  of  the 
Chapel,  in  a  vault  of  the  same  dimensions  as  those  given  in 
Dart.  Therefore,  when  compared  with  the  printed  narra- 
tives, this  meagre  record  was  naturally  thought  to  indicate 
nothing  more  than  either  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel  generally,  or 
else  some  spot  at  the  north-east,  adjoining  the  Tudor  vault, 
Avhere,  accordingly,  as  the  nearest  approach  to  reconciling  the 
conflicting  statements,  the  names  of  James  I.  and  his  Queen 
had  in  1866  been  conjecturally  placed.  When,  however,  my 
attention  was  thus  more  closely  called  to  the  ambiguity  of 
the  several  records,  I  determined  to  take  the  opportunity  of 
resolving  this  doubt  with  several  others,  arising,  as  I  have 
already  indicated,  from  the  absence  of  epitaphs  or  precise 
records.  In  the  anticipation  of  some  such  necessity,  and  at 
the  same  time  in  accordance  with  the  long-established  usage 
of  the  Abbey,  as  well  as  from  a  sense  of  the  sacredness  of  the 
responsibility  devolving  on  the  guardian  of  the  Royal  Tombs, 
I  had  three  years  before  entered  into  communication  with 
the  then  Secretary  of  State,  and  obtained  from  him  a  general 


THE   ROYAL   VAULTS.  373 

approval  of  any  investigation  which  historical  research  might 
render  desirable.  I  further  received  the  sanction  on  this 
occasion  of  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  and  also  of  the  First 
Commissioner  of  Public  Works,  as  representing  Her  Majesty, 
in  the  charge  of  the  Royal  monuments.  The  excavations 
were  made  under  the  directions  of  Mr.  Gilbert  Scott,  the 
architect,  and  Mr.  Poole,  the  master  mason  of  the  Abbey, 
on  the  spots  most  likely  to  lead  to  a  result. 

The  first  attempt  was  at  the  north-eastern  angle  of  Henry 
VII.'s  tomb,  which,  as  already  mentioned,  had  been  selected 
as  the  most  probable  site  of  the  grave  of  James  I.  -jj^g  Argyll 
The  marble  pavement  was  lifted  up,  and  imme-  ^'"^^'^' 
diately  disclosed  a  spacious  vault,  with  four  coffins.  But 
they  proved  to  be  those  of  the  great  Duke  of  Argyll  and  his 
Duchess,  side  by  side ;  and  resting  on  them,  of  their  daugh- 
ters, Caroline  Campbell,  Countess  of  Dalkeith,  and  Mary 
Coke,  widow  of  Viscount  Coke,  sou  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester.^ 

This  discovery,  whilst  it  was  the  first  check  to  the  hope 
of  verifying  the  grave  of  James  I.,  was  not  without  its  own 
importance,  even  irrespectively  of  the  interest  attaching  to 
the  illustrious  family  whose  remains  were  thus  disclosed. 
The  Burial  Register  described  the  Duke  of  Argyll  as  having 
been  originally  interred  in  the  Ormond  A^ault,  and  afterwards 
removed  to  a  vault  of  his  own.  This  vault  had  hitherto  been 
supposed  to  have  been  in  the  Sheffield  Chapel  close  by.  But 
it  now  appeared  that  when  the  Sheffield  vault  was  filled  and 
closed,  and  the  steps  leading  to  it  had  become  useless,  the 
Argyll  vault  was  made  in  their  place.^ 

1  These  are  the  two  daughters  mentioned  in  The  Heart  of  Mid- 
lothian. Caroline  was  the  one  whom  Mrs.  Glass  supposed  to  have  been 
seen  by  Jeanuie  Deans,  when  she  said  that  a  lady  had  appeared  of  the 
name  of  Caroline.  Mary  was  the  lively  little  girl  of  twelve  years  old, 
who  taunted  her  father  with  the  recollection  of  Sheriffmuir ;  and  whe 
at  the  extreme  age  of  eighty-one,  was  the  last  of  the  family  interred  in 
the  vault  in  1811. 

2  It  is  curious  that  the  coffin  of  the  Duke  is  placed  on  the  northern, 
instead  of  the  southern,  or  dexter  side  ;  perhaps  from  the  fact  that  the 


374  APPENDIX. 

The  search  was  now  continued  in  the  space  between 
Henry  VII.'s  tomb  and  the  Villiers  Chapel ;  but  the  ground 
Empty  ^^^s  found  to  be  unoccupied  and  apparently  undis- 

vauits.  turbed.     Westward  and  southward,  however,  three 

vaults  were  discovered,  two  lying  side  by  side  opposite  the 
eastern  bay  of  the  north  aisle,  and  one  having  a  descent  of 
steps  under  the  floor  opposite  the  adjoining  bay.  The  vaults 
were  covered  with  brick  arches,  and  the  descent  with  Purbeck 
stone  slabs.  That  nearest  to  the  dais  west  of  Henry  VII.'s 
tomb,  which  it  partly  underlies,  was  found  to  contain  one 
coffin  of  lead  rudely  shaped  to  the  human  form,  and  attached 
to  it  was  the  silver  plate  containing  the  name  and  title  of 
Elizabeth  Claypole,  tlie  favourite  daughter  of  Oliver 
EUzabeth  Cromwell.  This  exactly  tallied  with  the  descrip- 
ciajpoe.  ^.^^^  given  in  the  Burial  Book  discovered  by  Dean 
Bradford  in  1728.^     The  lead  coffin  is  in  good  order,  and  the 

Duchess  was  interred  before  the  removal  of  his  coffin  from  the  Ormoud 
vault.  The  walls  are  brick,  and  the  covering  stone  only  a  few  inches 
below  the  surface.  The  lead  coffin  of  the  first  interment  is  divested  of 
its  wooden  case,  that  of  the  second  partly  so ;  but  the  two  upper  coffins 
with  the  velvet  coverings  are  in  good  condition. 

1  In  186G,  on  first  studying  tlie  Burial  Books  of  the  Abbey,  I  had 
been  startled  to  find,  on  a  torn  leaf,  under  the  date  of  1728,  the  fol- 
lowing entry :  '  Taken  off  a  silver  plate  to  a  lead  coffin,  and  fixed  on 
again  by  order  of  Dr.  Samuel  Bradford,  Bishop  of  Rochester  and 
Dean  of  Westminster.'  The  inscription  is  then  given  in  English,  and 
the  following  notice  is  added  :  —  'N.B.  — The  said  body  lays  at  the 
end  of  the  step  of  the  altar,  on  the  north  side,  between  the  step  and 
the  stalls.' 

In  accordance  with  this  indication,  the  name  was  inscribed  on  the 
stone  in  1867.  Since  discovering  this,  by  a  reference  of  Colonel 
Chester  to  Noble's  Cromwell,  i.  140  (.3rd  ed.),  I  found  the  same  in- 
scription in  Latin,  with  the  additional  fact  that  in  1725,  during  altera- 
tions previous  to  the  first  installation  of  the  Bath,  the  workmen 
discovered,  forced  off,  and  endeavoured  to  conceal  the  plate.  The 
clerk  of  the  works,  Mr.  Fidoe,  took  it  from  them  and  delivered  it  to 
the  Dean  [erroneously  called  Dr.  Pearce],  who  said  he  should  not  take 
anything  that  had  been  deposited  with  the  illustrious  dead,  and  or- 
dered it  to  be  replaced.  The  authority  was  Noble's  'friend.  Dr.  Long- 
mete,  who  had  it  from  Mr.  Fidoe  himself.' 


THE   ROYAL   VAULTS.  375 

silver  plate  perfect.  The  letters  iu  the  inscription  exactly 
resemtle  those  on  the  plate  torn  from  her  father's  cofl&n,  and 
now  in  the  possession  of  Earl  De  Grey.^ 

The  vault  2  of  Elizabeth  Claypole  was  probably  made  ex- 
pressly to  receive  her  remains ;  and  it  may  be  that,  from  its 
isolation,  it  escaped  notice  at  the  time  of  the  general  disinter- 
ment in  1661.  But  it  is  remarkable  that  the  adjoining  vaults 
were  quite  empty,  and  untU  now  quite  unknown.  Probably 
they  were  made  iu  the  time  of  Dean  Bradford,  as  indicated 
by  the  Eegister  of  1728,  perhaps  for  the  Eoyal  Family; 
but  when,  at  the  death  of  the  Queen  of  George  II.  in  1737, 
the  extensive  Georgian  vault  was  constructed,  these,  having 
become  superfluous,  may  then  have  been  forgotten. 

It  was  now  determined  to  investigate  the  ground  in  the 
Sheffield  Chapel,  which  hitherto  had  been  supposed  to  con- 
tain  the   Argyll  vault.      Although,    as  has   been  Vault  of 
seen,  the  MS.  records  iu  Heralds'  College  distinctly  Denmark, 
state  that  Anne  of  Denmark  was  buried  in  a  little  Chapel 

1  The  actual  inscription  is  as  follows,  and  exactly  agrees  with  the 
transcript  in  Noble,  with  the  exception  of  equitis  for  eqmW^i,  whicli 
arose  from  a  misunderstanding  of  the  old  characters :  — 
Depositum 
IllustrissimiB  Domina;  D.  Elizabethse  nuper  uxoris  Honoratissimi 
Domini  Johanuis  Claypoole, 
Magistri  Equitum 
necnon  Filiae  Secundae 
Serenissimi  et  Celsissimi 
Principis 
Oliveri,  Dei  Gratia 
Anglise,  Scotia,  et  Hiberniae, 
&c. 
Protectoris. 
Obiit 
Apnd  ^des  Hamptonienses 
Sexto  die  August! 
Anno  setatis  suae  Vicesimo  Octavo 
Annoque  Domini 
1658. 
2  The  wooden  centering  used  in  forming  the  last  section  of  the 
vault  had  been  left  in  it  and  had  fallen  down. 


376  APPENDIX. 

at  the  top  of  the  stairs  leading  into  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel, 
there  was  a  memorandum  in  the  Abbey  Burial  Book,  dated 
1718,  from  which  it  might  be  inferred  that  the  Queen  was 
buried  in  the  north-east  corner  of  the  Chapel.  The  pave- 
ment, which  had  evidently  been  disturbed  more  than  once, 
was  removed,  and  a  slight  quantity  of  loose  earth  being 
scraped  away  below  the  surface,  at  a  few  inches  the  stone 
covering  to  a  vault  was  found.  A  plain  brick  vault  beneath 
was  disclosed  of  dimensions  precisely  corresponding  with  the 
description  given  by  Dart,  as  the  vault  of  James  I.  and  his 
consort.  And  alone,  in  the  centre  of  the  wide  space,  lay  a 
long  leaden  coffin  shaped  to  the  form  of  the  body,  on  which 
was  a  plate  of  brass,  with  an  inscription  ^  exactly  coinciding 
with  that  in  the  Burial  Book  of  1718,^  and  giving  at  length 
the  style  and  title  of  Anne  of  Denmark. 

The  wooden  case  had  wholly  gone,  and  there  were  no 
remains  of  velvet  cloth  or  nails.  The  vault  appeared  to 
have  been  carefully  swept  out,  and  all  decayed  materials 
removed,  perhaps  in  1718,  when  the  inscription  was  copied 
into  the  Abbey  Register,  and  the  measurement  of  the  vault 
taken,  which  Dart  has  recorded;  or  even  in  1811,  when  the 
adjoining  Argyll  vault  was  last  opened,  when  the  stone  (a 

1  Serenissima 

Regina  Anna 

Jacobi,  Magnse  Britannise 

Francise  et  Hiberniae  Regis, 

Conjux,  Frederici  Secundi 

Regis  Daniae  Norvigise 

Vandalorum  et  Gothorum,  filia, 

Cbristiani  IIII  soror  ac  multorum 

Principum  mater,  hie  depouitur. 

Obiit  apud  Hampton  Court,  anno 

Sabitis  MDCxviii,  iiii  Nonas 

Martis,  anno  Nata  xmi 

Menses  iiii 

dies  XVIII. 

2  It  had  probably  been  opened  with  a  view  of  interring  Lady  Man- 

sel,  whose  burial   (in  the  Ormond  vault)   immediately  precedes  the 

notice  of  the  Queen's  coffin. 


THE   ROYAL   VAULTS.  377 

Yorkshire  flag  landing  ^)  which  covered  the  head  of  the  vault 
may  have  heen  fixed ;  and  when  some  mortar,  which  did  not 
look  older  than  fifty  years,  may  have  fallen  on  the  coffin- 
plate.  The  length  of  the  leaden  chest  (6  feet  7  inches)  was 
interesting,  as  fully  corroborating  the  account  of  the  Queen's 
remarkable  stature.  There  was  a  small  hole  in  the  coffin, 
attributable  to  the  bursting  and  corrosion  of  the  lead,  which 
appeared  also  to  have  collapsed  over  the  face  and  body.  The 
form  of  the  knees  was  indicated. 

On  examining  tlie  wall  at  the  west  end  of  this  vault,  it 
was  evident  that  the  brickwork  had  been  broken  down,  and 
a  hole  had  been  made,  as  if  there  had  been  an  endeavour  to 
ascertain  whether  any  other  vault  existed  to  the  westward. 
The  attempt  seems  to  have  been  soon  abandoned,  for  the 
aperture  was  merely  six  or  eight  inches  in  depth.  It  had 
been  filled  in  with  loose  earth.  On  turning  out  and  exam- 
ining this,  two  leg  bones  and  a  piece  of  a  skull  were  found. 
It  was  thought,  and  is  indeed  possible,  that  these  had  been 
thrown  there  by  accident,  either  when  the  Parliamentary^ 
troops  occupied  the  Chapel,  or  on  either  of  the  more  recent 
occasions  already  noticed.  But  in  the  contemplation  of  this 
vault,  evidently  made  for  two  persons,  and  in  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  concurrent  testimony  of  all  the  printed  accounts,  the 
King  himself  was  buried  with  the  Queen,  the  question  arose 
with  additional  force  what  could  have  become  of  his  remains ; 
and  the  thought  occurred  to  more  than  one  of  the  spectators, 
that  when  the  Chapel  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Parliamentary 
soldiers,  some  of  those  concerned  may  well  have  remembered 
the  spot  where  the  last  sovereign  had  been  buried  with  so 
much  pomp,  and  may  have  rifled  his  coffin,  leaving  the  bare 
vault  and  the  few  bones  as  the  relics  of  the  first  Stuart  King. 

With  so  strange  and  dark  a  conclusion  as  the  only  alterna- 
tive, it  was  determined  to  push  the  inquiry  in  every  locality 

1  These  Yorkshire  stones  have  only  been  in  use  during  the  present 
century. 

2  Chapter  IIL  and  Chapter  IV. 


378  APPENDIX 

which  seemed  to  afford  any  likelihood  of  giving  a  more  satis- 
factory solution.  The  first  attempt  was  naturally  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Queen's  grave.  A  wall  was  found 
immediately  to  the  east,  which,  on  being  examined,  opened 
into  a  vault  containing  several  coffins.  For  a  moment  it  was 
thought  that  the  King,  with  possibly  some  other  important 
Sheffield  personages,  was  discovered.  But  it  proved  to  be 
vault.  Q^iy  ^2ie  vault  of  the  Sheffield  monument.^     The 

discovery  was  a  surprise,  because  the  Burial  Eegister  spoke 
of  them  as  deposited  in  the  Orraond  vault.^  The  coffins  were 
those  of  the  first  ^  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Buckinghamshire 
and  three  of  their  children,  and  also  the  second  and  last 
Duke,  at  '  whose  death,  lamented  by  *  Atterbury  and  Pope, 
and  yet  more  deeply  by  his  fantastic  mother,  all  the  titles  of 
his  family  became  extinct,'  the  vault  was  walled  up,  although 
'  where  the  steps  were  there  was  room  for  eight  more.'  ^ 
This  'room'  was  afterwards  appropriated  by  the  Argyll 
family,  as  before  stated. 

Amongst  the  places  of  sepulture  which  it  was  thought 
possible  that  James  I.  might  have  selected  for  himself  was 
the  grave  which  with  so  much  care  he  had  selected  for  his 
mother,  on  the  removal  of  her  remains  from  Peterborough  to 
Westminster;  and  as  there  were  also  some  contradictory 
statements  respecting  the  interments  in  her  vault,  it  was 
determined  to  make  an  entry  by  removing  the  stones  on  the 
south  side  of  the  southern  aisle  of  the  Chapel,  among  which 
one  was  marked  WAY.  This  led  to  an  ample  flight  of  stone 
Vault  of  steps  trending  obliquely  under  the  Queen  of  Scots' 
Queen  of  tomb.  Immediately  at  the  foot  of  these  steps  ap- 
scots.  peared  a  large  vault   of  brick  121-  ft.  long,  7  ft. 

wide,  and  6  ft.  high.     A  startling,  it  may  almost  be  said  an 

1  This  vault  (from  the  absence  of  an  escape  air-pipe  through  the 
covering)  was  the  only  one  in  which  the  atmospliere  was  impure. 

2  Perhaps  the  Duke  was  at  first  buried  in  the  Ormond  vault,  and 
afterwards  removed  to  this  one. 

3  See  Chapter  IV.  *  See  Ibid.  ^  Burial  Register. 


THE  ROYAL  VAULTS.  379 

awful,  scene  presented  itself.  A  vast  j^ile  of  leaden  coffins 
rose  from  the  floor ;  some  of  full  stature,  the  larger  number 
varying  in  form  from  that  of  the  full-grown  child  to  the 
merest  infant,  confusedly  heaped  upon  the  others,  whilst 
several  urns  of  various  shapes  were  tossed  about  in  irregular 
positions  throughout  the  vault. 

The  detailed  account  of  this  famous  sepulchre  given  by 
CruU  and  Dart  at  once  facilitated  the  investigation  of  this 
chaos  of  royal  mortality.  This  description,  whilst  needing 
correction  in  two  or  three  points,  was,  on  the  whole,  sub- 
stantiated. 

The  first  distinct  object  that  arrested  the  attention  was  a 
coffin  in  the  north-west  corner,  rouglily  moulded  according  to 
the  human  form  and  face.  It  could  not  be  doubted  to  be 
that  of  1  Henry  Frederick  Prince  of  Wales.  The  Henry 
lead  of  the  head  was  shaped  into  rude  features,  the  Wale's!  "^ 
legs  and  arms  indicated,  even  to  the  forms  of  the  fingers  and 
toes.  On  the  breast  was  soldered  a  leaden  case  evidently 
containing  the  heart,  and  below  were  his  initials,  with  the 
Prince  of  Wales's  feathers,  and  the  date  of  his  death  (1G12). 
In  spite  of  the  grim  ^  and  deformed  aspect,  occasioned  by  the 
irregular  collapsing  of  the  lead,  there  was  a  life-like  appear- 
ance which  seemed  like  an  endeavour  to  recall  the  lamented 
heir  of  so  much  hope. 

Next,  along  the  north  wall,  were  two  coffins,  much  com- 
pressed and  distorted  by  the  superincumbent  weight  of  four 
or  five  lesser  coffins  heaped  upon  them.  According  to  Crull's 
account,  the  upper  one  of  these  two  was  that  of  Mary  Queen 
of  Scots,  the  lower  that  of  Arabella  Stuart.  But  Arabella 
subsequent  investigation  led  to  the  reversal  of  this  ^*'"*''^- 
conclusion.  No  plate  could  be  found  on  either.  But  the 
upper  one  was  much  broken,  and  the  bones,  especially  the 
skull,  turned  on  one  side,  were  distinctly  visible,  —  thus 
agreeing  with  Crull's  account  of  the  coffin  of  Arabella  Stuart. 

1  See  Chapter  III.  p.  217. 

2  A  cast  was  takeu  and  is  preserved. 


380  APPENDIX. 

The  lower  one  was  saturated  with  pitch,  and  was  deeply 
compressed  by  the  weight  above,  but  the  lead  had  not  given 
way.  It  was  of  a  more  solid  and  stately  character,  and  was 
shaped  to  meet  the  form  of  the  body  like  another  presently 
Mary  Queen  ^^  ^®  noticed,  which  would  exactly  agree  with  the 
of  Scots.  age  and  rank  of  Mary  Stuart.  The  difficulty  of 
removing  the  whole  weight  of  the  chest  would  of  itself  have 
proved  a  bar  to  any  closer  examination.  But,  in  fact,  it  was 
felt  not  to  be  needed  for  any  purpose  of  historical  verification, 
and  the  presence  of  the  fatal  coffin  which  had  received  the 
headless  corpse  at  Fotheringay  was  sufficiently  affecting, 
without  endeavouring  to  penetrate  farther  into  its  mournful 
contents.^  It  cannot  be  questioned  that  this,  and  this  alone, 
must  be  the  coffin  of  the  Queen  of  Scots.  Its  position  by 
the  north  wall,  close  to  Henry  Prince  of  Wales,  who  must 
have  been  laid  here  a  few  months  after  her  removal  hither 
from  Peterborough ;  its  peculiar  form  ;  its  suitableness  in  age 
and  situation,  —  were  decisive  as  to  the  fact.  On  the  top  of 
this  must  have  been  laid  Arabella  Stuart  in  her  frail  and  ill- 
constructed  receptacle.  And  thus  for  many  years,  those  three 
Henry  of  aloue  (with  the  exception  of  Charles  I.'s  two  infant 
Oatiauds.  children^)  occupied  the  vault.  Then  came  the 
numerous  funerals  immediately  after  the  Restoration.  Henry 
of  Oatlands  ^  lies  underneath  Henry  Prince  of  Wales.  There 
is  no  plate,  but  the  smaller  size  of  the  coffin,  and  its  situation, 
coincide  with  the  printed  description.  It  may  be  conjectured 
that  whilst  Mary  lies  in  her  original  position,  Henry  Prince 
of  Wales  must  have  lain  in  the  centre  of  the  vault  by  her 
side,  and  removed  to  his  present  position  when  the  intro- 
duction of  the  two  larger  coffins  now  occupying  the  centre 
necessitated  his  removal  farther  north.  Of  these  two  larger 
coffins,  the  printed  account  identified  the  lower  one  as  that 

1  See  Chapter  III.  p.  213. 

2  See  Chapter  III.  p.  219.     These  could  not  be  identified. 

3  For  Henry  of  Oatlands,  Mary  of  Orange,  Elizabeth  of  Bohemia, 
and  Prince  Kupert,  see  Chapter  III.  p.  225-6. 


THE   ROYAL   VAULTS.  381 

of  Mar\'  Princess  of  Orange ;  the  plate  affixed  to  the  upper 
one  proved  it  to  contain  Prince  Rupert,  whose  ex-  jj^ry  of 
act  place  in  the  Chapel  had  been  hitherto  unknown,  ^^^'^'•i'^- 
Next  to  them,  against  the  south  wall,  were  again  two  large 
coffins,  of  which  the  lower  one,  in  like  manner  by 

'  '   .  -^    Anne  Hyde. 

the  printed  account,  was  ascertained  to  be  that  of 
Anne  Hyde,  James  II.'s  first  wife,  and  that  above  was  recog- 
nised by  the  plate,  still  affixed,  to  be  that  of  Elizabeth  Queen 
of  Bohemia. ■'^  Her  brother  Henry  in  his  last  hours  Elizabeth  of 
had  cried  out,  '  Where  is  my  dear  sister  1'  and  she  °  ®™'*" 
had  vainly  endeavoured,  disguised  as  a  page,  to  force  herself 
into  his  presence.  Fifty  eventful  years  passed  away,  and  she 
was  laid  within  a  few  feet  of  him  in  this  —  their  last  home. 

Spread  over  the  surface  of  these  more  solid  structures  lay 
the  small  coffins,  often  hardly  more  than  cases,  of  the  numer- 
ous progeny  of  that  unhappy  family,  doomed,  as  The  children 
this  gloomy  chamber  impressed  on  all  who  saw  it,  of  Ja'n*^sii., 
with  a  more  than  ordinary  doom  —  infant  after  infant  fading 
away  which  might  else  have  preserved  the  race  —  first,  the 
ten  ^  children  of  James  II.,  including  one  whose  existence 
was  unknown   before  —  '  James    Darnley,   natural 

and  of  Anne. 

son'  —  ^   and   then    eighteen    children    of   Queen 
Anne ;  of  whom  one  alone  required  the  receptacle  of  a  full- 
grown  child,  —  William  Duke  of  Gloucester.     His  coffin  lay 
on  that  of  Elizabeth  of  Bohemia,  and   had  to  be  raised  in 
order  to  read  the  plate  containing  her  name. 

1  In  CruU's  account,  Elizabeth  of  Bohemia  is  described  as  resting 
on  Mary  (or,  as  he  by  a  slip  calls  her,  Elizabeth)  of  Orange.  This, 
perhaps,  was  her  original  position,  and  she  may  have  been  subse- 
quently placed  upon  Anne  Hyde's  coffin,  in  order  to  make  room  for 
her  son  Rupert. 

2  See  Chapter  III.  p.  228. 

3  Mr.  Doyne  Bell  suggests  to  me  that  this  child  was  the  son  of 
Catherine  Sedley,  inasmuch  as  the  same  name  of  Darnley  was  granted 
by  letters  patent  of  James  II.  to  her  daughter  Catherine,  afterwards 
Duchess  of  Buckinghamshire,  after  the  date  of  the  death  of  James 
Darnley. 


382  APPENDIX. 

Of  these,  most  of  the  plates  had  been  preserved,  and  (with 
the  two  exceptions  of  those  of  James  Darnley  ^  and  of  Prince 
Rupert^)  were  all  identical  with  those  mentioned  in  Crull. 
The  rest  had  either  perished,  or,  as  is  not  improbable,  been 
detached  by  the  workmen  at  the  reopenings  of  the  vault  at 
each  successive  interment. 

It  was  impossible  to  view  this  wreck  and  ruin  of  the  Stuart 
dynasty  without  a  wish,  if  possible,  to  restore  something  like 
order  and  decency  amongst  the  relics  of  so  much  departed 
greatness.  The  confusion,  which,  at  first  sight,  gave  the 
impression  of  wanton  havoc  and  neglect,  had  been  doubtless 
produced  chiefly  by  the  pressure  of  superincumbent  weight, 
■which  could  not  have  been  anticipated  by  those  who  made 
the  arrangement,  when  the  remains  of  the  younger  genera- 
tions were  accumulated  beyond  all  expectation  on  the  remains 
of  their  progenitors.  In  the  absence  of  directions  from  any 
superior  autliority,  a  scruple  was  felt  against  any  endeavour 

1  COFFIN-PLATE   OF   JAMES  DARNLEY. 

James  Darnley 

natural  sonu  to  King  James  y"^  second. 

Dej^arted  this  life  the  22  of  aprill 

1685 

Aged  aBout  eight  INIouuths. 

2  PRINCE   RUPERT'S   INSCRIPTION. 

Depositum 

Illustr :  Principis  Ruperti,  Comitis  Palatini  Rheni, 

Ducis  BavarifE  et  Cumbria,  Comitis  Holdernessiffi, 

totius  Anglise  Vice-Admiralli, 

Regalis  Castri  Windesoriensis  Constabularii  et  Gubernatoris, 

Nohilissimi  Ordinis  Periscelidis  Equitis, 

Et  Majestati  Regice  a  Sanctioribus  Conciliis, 

Filii  tertiogeniti  Ser"'  Principis  Frederici  Regis  Bohemiffi,  etc. 

Per  Ser^"  Principiss:  Elizalietham,  Filiam  unicam  Jacobi, 

Sororem  Caroli  Primi,  et  amitam  Caroli  ejus  nominis  secundi, 

Magnae  Britanniffi,  Francias  et  Hibernife  Regum. 

Nati  Pragse,  Bohemia  Metrop.  1}  Decembr.  A"  MDCXIX". 

Denati  Londini  XXIX  Novenibr:  MDCLXXXII". 

iEtatis  sua  LXIII. 


THE   ROYAL  VAUT.TS.  383 

to  remove  these  little  waifs  and  strays  of  royalty  from  the 
solemn  resting-place  where  they  had  been  gathered  round 
their  famous  and  unfortunate  ancestress.  But  as  far  as  could 
be  they  were  cleared  from  the  larger  coffins,  and  placed  in  the 
small  open  space  at  the  foot  of  the  steps. 

This  vault  opened  on  the  west  into  a  much  narrower  vault, 
under  the  monument  -^  of  Lady  Margaret  Lennox,  through  a 
wall  of  nearly  3  feet  in  thickness  by  a  hole  which  is  made 
about  3  feet  above  the  floor,  and  about  2  feet  xhe  Lennox 
square.  A  pile  of  three  or  four  of  the  small  ^''^^^*' 
chests  of  James  XL's  children  obstructed  the  entrance,  but 
within  the  vault  there  appeared  to  be  three  coffins  one  above 
the  other.  The  two  lower  would  doubtless  be  those  of  the 
Countess  and  her  son  Charles,  Earl  of  Lennox,  the  father  of 
Arabella  Stuart.  The  upper  coffin  was  that  of  Esme  Stuart, 
Duke  of  Eichmond,  whose  name,  with  the  date  1624,^  was 
just  traceable  on  the  decayed  plate.  On  the  south  side  of 
this  vault  there  was  seen  to  have  been  an  opening  cut,  and 
afterwards  filled  up  with  brickwork.  This  probably  was  the 
hole  through  which,  before  1683,  in  Keepe's  time,  the  skele- 
ton and  dry  shrivelled  skin  of  Charles  Lennox,  in  his  shaken 
and  decayed  coffin,  was  visible. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  position  of  the  vault  is  not  con- 
formable with  the  tomb  above,  the  head  of  the  vault  being 
askew  two  or  three  feet  to  the  soiith.  This  is  evidently 
done  to  effect  a  descent  at  the  head,  which  could  not  other- 

*  See  Chapter  III.  p.  213.  It  may  be  observed  that  the  monument 
must  have  been  erected  upon  the  accession  of  James  to  the  English 
throne,  as  he  is  called  in  the  epitaph  on  the  tomb  '  King  James  VI.' 

2  He  was  the  grandnephew  of  Lady  Margaret  Lennox,  a  second 
brother  of  Ludovic,  who  lies  in  the  Richmond  Chapel,  and  whom  he 
succeeded  in  his  title,  in  162.3-24.  He  died  at  Kirby,  on  February  14, 
in  the  following  year  (1624),  from  the  spotted  ague,  and  was  'hon- 
ourably buried  at  Westminster.*  There  were  1000  mourners  at  the 
funeral ;  the  effigy  was  drawn  by  six  horses.  The  pomp  was  equal  to 
that  of  the  obsequies  of  Anne  of  Denmark.  'The  Lord  Keeper* 
(Williams)  preached  the  sermon.  —  State  Papers,  Dom.,  James  I.  vol. 
clxiii.  pp.  320,  323,  327.     Communicated  by  JVIr.  Doyue  Bell. 


384  APPENDIX. 

wise  have  been  made,  because  the  foundation  of  the  detached 
pier  at  the  west  end  of  the  chapel  would  have  barred  that 
entrance ;  and  no  doubt  if  the  pavement  were  opened 
beyond  the  inclined  vault,  the  proper  access  would  be 
discovered. 

Interesting  as  these  two  vaults  were  in  themselves,  the 
search  for  King  James  I.  was  yet  baffled.  The  statements 
Ejj,  ^  of  Dart  and  Crull  still  pointed  to  his  burial  in  the 

vaults.  north  aisle.     The  vault  afterwards  appropriated  by 

General  Monk,^  at  the  west  entrance  of  that  aisle,  had  been 
already  examined,  without  discovering  any  trace  of  royal 
personages.  But  it  was  suggested  that  there  was  every 
reason  for  exploring  the  space  at  the  east  end  of  the  aisle 
between  the  tombs  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  those  of  the 
King's  own  infant  daughters.  This  space  had  accordingly 
been  examined  at  the  first  commencement  of  the  excava- 
tions, but  proved  to  be  quite  vacant.  There  was  not  the 
slightest  appearance  of  vault  or  grave.  The  excavations, 
however,  had  almost  laid  bare  the  wall  immediately  at  the 
eastern  end  of  the  monument  of  Elizabeth,  and  through  a 
small  aperture  a  view  was  obtained  into  a  low  narrow  vault 
immediately  beneath  her  tomb.  It  was  instantly  evident 
that  it  enclosed  two  coffins,  and  two  only,  and  it  could  not 
be  doubted  that  these '^  contained  Elizabeth  and  her  sister 
Mary.  The  upper  one,  larger,  and  more  distinctly  shaped  in 
the  form  of  the  body,  like  that  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots, 
rested  on  the  other. 

There  was  no  disorder  or  decay,  except  that  the  centering 
wood  had  fallen  over  the  head  of  Elizabeth's  coffin,  and  that 

the  wood  case  had  crumbled  away  at  the  sides,  and 
Queen  had  drawn  away  part  of  the  decaying  lid.     'No 

coffin-plate  could  be  discovered,  but  fortunately 
the  dim  light  fell  on  a  fragment  of  the  lid  slightly  carved. 
This  led  to  a  further  search,  and  the  original  inscription  was 

1  See  Appendix  to  Chapter  IV. 

2  See  Chapter  III.  p.  214. 


THE   EOYAL   VAULTS. 


385 


discovered.  There  was  the  Tudor  Badge,  a  full  double  rose/ 
deeply  but  simply  incised  in  outline  on  the  middle  of  the 
cover,  —  on  each  side  the  august  initials  E  R,  and  below, 
tlie  memorable  date  1603.  The  coffin-lid  had  been  further 
decorated  with  narrow  moulded  panelling.     The  coffin-case 


^'ty;<|ii|Pi!''ij:i;il!lli|!iiyi!i|l|i:|(il||1^ 

WOODEN  CASE  OF   LEADEN  COFFIN  OF   QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 


was  of  inch  elm  ;  but  the  ornamental  lid  containing  the 
inscription  and  panelling  was  of  fine  oak,  half  an  inch  thick, 
laid  on  the  inch  elm  cover.  The  whole  was  covered  with 
red  silk  velvet,  of  which  much  remained  attached  to  the 
wood  ;  and  it  had  covered  not  only  the  sides  and  ends,  but 

^  The  prominence  of  this  double  rose  on  the  Queen's  coffin  is  illus- 
trated by  one  of  the  Epitaphs  given  in  Nichols's  Progresses,  p.  251 :  — 

'  Here  in  this  earthen  pit  lie  withered. 
Which  grew  on  high  the  white  rose  and  the  red,' 
VOL.  II.  —  25 


386 


APPENDIX. 


also  the  ornamented   oak  cover,  as  though  the  hare  wood 
had  not  been  thought  rich  enough  without  the  velvet. 

The  sight  of  this  secluded  and  narrow  tomb,  thus  com- 
pressing in  the  closest  grasp  the  two  Tudor  sisters,  '  partners 
of  the  same  throne  and  grave,  sleeping  in  the  hope  of  resur- 
rection,' —  the  solemn  majesty  of  the  great  Queen  thus  repos- 
ing, as  can  hardly  be  doubted,  by  her  own  desire,  on  her 


TORREGIANO'S   ALTAR,  FORMERLY  AT  THE   HEAD   OF   HENRY  VII.  S 

TOMB,    UNDER   WHICH   EDWARD   VI.    WAS    BURIED. 

FROM   AN   ENGRAVING    IN   SANDFORD'S   GENEALOGICAL   HISTORY. 

sister's  coffin,  —  was  the  more  impressive  from  the  contrast 
of  its  quiet  calm  with  the  confused  and  multitudinous  decay 
of  the  Stuart  vault,  and  of  the  fulness  of  its  tragic  interest 
with  the  vacancy  of  the  deserted  spaces  which  had  been 
hitherto  explored  in  the  other  parts  of  the  Chapel.  The 
vault  was  immediately  closed  again. 


THE   ROYAL   VAULTS. 


387 


It  was  now  evident  that  the  printed  accounts  of  James's 
interment  were  entirely  at  fault.  The  whole  north  side  of 
the  Chapel,  where  they  with  one  accord  represented  him  to 
have  been  buried,  had  been  explored  in  vain ;  and  it  re- 
mained only  to  search  the  spots  in  the  centre  and  south  side 
which  offered  the  chief  probability  of  success. 

The  first  of  these  spots  examined  was  the  space  between 
the  spot  known  to  have  been  occupied  by  the  grave  of  King 
Edward  VI.  and  that  of  George  II.  and  his  Queen.  This, 
however,  was  unoccupied,  and  besides  was  barely  sufficient 


MARBLE   FRAGMENT  OF   TORREGIANO's  ALTAR. 


to  form  even  a  small  vault.     But  its  exploration  led  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  exact  position  of  these  two  graves.^ 

The  next  approach  was  made  to  the  space  under  the  dais, 
west  of  Henry  VII.'s  monument,  w^here  Edward  VI.'s  grave 
had  been  already  in  1866  indicated'^  on  the  pave-  vault  of 
ment.  A  shallow  vault  immediately  appeared,  Edward  vi. 
containing  one  leaden  coffin  only,  rent  and  deformed  as 
well  as  wasted  by  long  corrosion,  and  perhaps  injured  by 

1  In  this  and  the  previous  operation  under  the  marble  floor  were 
discovered  two  transverse  tie-bars  of  iron  bearing  upon  blocks  of  stoue 
resting  on  the  arch  over  George  II. 's  grave.  From  that  at  the  head 
there  was  a  vertical  suspension-bar  passing  through  the  arch  into  the 
vault.  Its  purpose  may  perhaps  have  been  to  support  a  canopy  or 
ceiling  over  the  sarcophagus  beneath. 

2  See  Chapter  III.  p.  208. 


388  APPENDIX. 

having  been  examined  before.  The  wooden  case  had  been 
in  part  cleared  away  and  the  pavement  had  evidently  been  at 
some  previous  time  wholly  or  partially  removed.  Over  the 
coffin  were  a  series  of  Kentish  rag-stones,  which  had  been 
steps,  —  one  or  more  shaped  with  octagon  angle  ends,  and 
the  fronts  of  them  bordered  with  a  smooth  polished  sur- 
ftice  surrounding  a  frosted  area  of  a  light  grey  colour  within 
the  border.  These  were  probably  the  original  steps  of  the 
dais,  and  must  have  been  placed  in  this  position  at  the  time 
when,  in  1641,  the  Puritans  destroyed  the  monumental 
altar  under  which  Edward  VI.  was  buried.     This  conclusion 

was  greatly  strengthened  by  the  interesting  discov- 
Toriegfano°s  ery  that  the  extreme  piece  of  the  covering  at  the 

foot  was  a  frieze  of  white  marble  3  feet  8  inches 
long,  7  inches  high,  and  6  inches  thick  —  elaborately  carved 
along  the  front  and  each  end,  while  the  back  was  wrought  to 


CARVING  OF  TORUEGIANO  S  ALTAR. 

form  the  line  of  a  segmental  vaulted  ceiling ;  and  the  ends 
pierced  to  receive  the  points  of  columns.  These  features  at 
once  marked  it  as  part  of  the  marble  frieze  of  Torregiano's 
work  for  this  *  matchless  altar,'  as  it  was  deemed  at  the  time. 
The  carving  is  of  the  best  style  of  the  early  Eenaissance 
period,  and  is  unquestionably  Italian  work.  It  combines 
alternations  of  heraldic  badges,  the  Tudor  roses  and  the 
lilies  ^  of  France,  placed  between  scrollage  of  various  flowers. 
It  still  retained  two  iron  cramps,  which  were  used  to  join  a 
fracture  occasioned  by  the  defectiveness  of  the  marble,  and  it 

1  A  poem  of  this  date — the  early  years  of  Henry  VIII.  —  was 
found  between  the  leaves  of  the  account-book  of  the  kitchener  of  the 
convent,  turning  chiefly  on  a  comparison  of  the  roses  of  England  and 
lilies  of  France. 


THE   ROYAL  VAULTS.  389 

also  exhibited  the  remains  of  another  iron  cramp,  which  was 
used  to  connect  the  marble  with  the  entire  fabric.  Deep 
stains  of  iron  at  the  ends  of  the  marble  had  been  left  by 
an  overlying  bar  (probably  a  part  of  the  ancient  structure), 
which  was  placed  on  the  carved  ^  surface,  seemingly  to 
strengthen  the  broken  parts. 

Underneath  these  fragments,  lying  across  the  lower  part  of 
the  coffin,  was  discovered,  curiously  rolled  up,  but  loose  and 
unsoldered,  the  leaden  coffin-plate.  It  was  so  cor-  Diseovery  of 
roded  that,  until  closely  inspected  iji  a  full  light,  pJate^'^th 
no  letter  or  inscription  was  discernible.  With  inscription, 
some  difficulty,  however,  every  letter  of  this  interesting  and 
hitherto  unknown  inscription  was  read.  The  letters,  all  cap- 
itals of  equal  size,  one  by  one  were  deciphered,  and  gave  to 
the  world,  for  the  first  time,  the  epitaph  on  the  youthful 
King,  in  some  points  unique  amongst  the  funeral  inscriptions 
of  English  sovereigns.^  On  the  coffin  of  the  first  completely 
Protestant  King,  immediately  following  the  Royal  titles,  was 
the  full  and  unabated  style  conferred  by  the  English  Refor- 
mation—  'On  earth  under  Christ  of  the  Church  of  England 
and  Ireland  Supreme  Head.'  ^  Such  an  inscription  marks 
the  moment  when  the  words  must  have  been  inserted  —  in 
that  short  interval  of  nine  days,  whilst  the  body  still  lay  at 

^  When  the  vault  was  finally  closed,  it  was  determined  to  remove 
and  properly  relay  the  whole  covering,  by  placing  a  corbel  plate  of 
three-inch  Yorkshire  stone  on  either  side,  the  middle  ends  of  which  were 
supported  by  laying  the  iron  tie-bar  before  alluded  to  across  the  grave. 
By  this  means  the  effective  opening  of  the  width  of  the  grave  was  re- 
duced, and  the  short  stones  of  the  old  covering  obtained  a  good  sup- 
port at  their  ends.  And  thus  the  ancient  iron  tie-bar  of  the  monument 
was  finally  utilised. 

2  Although  the  plate  had  originally  been  perfectly  flat,  it  was  now 
rolled  up  and  forcibly  contracted  by  the  corrosion  of  the  outer  surface, 
which  has  expanded,  while  the  inner  surface,  being  much  less  cor- 
roded, has  been  contracted,  and  thereby  the  flat  plate  has  assumed  the 
appearance  of  a  disproportioned  cushion. 

^  On  the  coffin  of  his  father  at  Windsor  no  inscription  exists.  By 
the  time  that  his  sisters  mounted  the  throne,  the  title  was  slightly 
altered. 


390  APPENDIX. 

Greenwich,  and  whilst  Lady  Jane  Grey  still  upheld  the  hopes 
of  the  Protestant  party.  It  proceeds  to  record,  as  with  a 
deep  pathetic  earnestness,  the  time  of  his  loss  —  not  merely 
the  year,  and  month,  and  day  —  but  '  8  o'clock,  in  the  even- 
ing,' that  memorable  evening,  of  the  sixth  of  July,  when 
the  cause  of  the  Eeformation  seemed  to  flicker  and  die  away 
with  the  life  of  the  youthful  Prince.^ 

The  discovery  of  this  record  of  the  Royal  Supremacy  — 
probably  the  most  emphatic  and  solemn  that  exists  —  would 
have  been  striking  at  any  time.  At  the  present  moment, 
when  the  foundation  of  this  great  doctrine  of  the  Reformed 
Churches  is  being  sifted  to  its  depths,  it  seemed  to  gather  up 
in  itself  all  the  significance  that  could  be  given.  It  was  a 
question  whether  this,  with  the  accompanying  relic  of  the 
marble  frieze,  should  be  returned  to  the  dark  vault  whence 
they  had  thus  unexpectedly  emerged,  or  placed  in  some  more 
accessible  situation.  It  was  determined  that  the  frieze,  as  a 
work  of  art,  which  had  only  by  accident  been  concealed  from 
view,  should  be  placed  as  nearly  as  possible  in  its  original 
position ;  but  that  the  inscription  ^  should  be  restored  to 
the  royal  coffin,  on  which  it  had  been  laid  in  that  agony  of 

1  It  may  be  noted  here  that  when  the  stone  covering  Avas  removed 
at  the  back  of  the  coffin,  the  skull  of  the  King  became  visible.  The 
cerecloth  had  fallen  away,  and  showed  that  no  hair  was  attached  to 
the  skull.  —  Compare  the  account  of  his  last  illness  in  Froude,  vol.  v, 
p.  512.     '  Eruptions  came  out  over  his  skin,  and  Ms  hair  fell  off. ' 

2  The  inscription  is  copied  word  for  word  and  line  for  line  on  the 
pavement  above  the  King's  grave  as  follows  :  — 

Edwardus  Sextus  Dei  gratia  Anglite  Fran- 

ciae  et  Hibernife  Kex  Fidei  Defensor  et  in 

terra  sub  Christo  Ecclesiie  Anglicanie  et 

Hibernicie  Supremum  Caput  migravit  ex  hac 

vita  sexto  die  Julii  vesperi  ad  horam 

octavam  anno  domini  MDLIII.  et 

regni  sui  septimo  £etatis  suae  decimo 

sexto. 

The  plate  itself  has  been  hardened  by  the  application  of  a  solution 

of  shellac,  which  has  fixed  the  loose  coating  of  corrosion,  and  will 

prevent  any  increase. 


THE   ROYAL   VAULTS.  391 

Eno'lisli  history,  there  to  rest  as  in  the  most  secure  depository 
of  so  sacred  a  trust. 

The  vault  of  King  Edward  VI.  was  too  narrow  ever  to 
have  admitted  of  another  coffin.  It  is  only  7|  feet  long,  2| 
feet  wide,  and  its  floor  but  a  few  feet  below  the  pavement. 
It  is  arched  with  two  rings  of  half  brick.  Immediately  on 
its  north  side  the  ground  had  never  been  disturbed  :  and  on 
the  south  side,  although  a  brick  vault  was  found,  it  was 
empty,  and  seems  never  to  have  been  used. 

It  was  now  suggested  that,  as  Anne  of  Denmark  was  alone 
in  the  vault  in  the  north  apsidal  compartment,  or  Sheffield 
Chapel,  King  James  might  have  been  placed  in  the  southern 
or  dexter  compartment  of  the  Montpensier  Chapel;  and  as 
the  sunken  and  irregular  state  of  the  pavement  there  showed 
that  it  had  been  much  disturbed,  the  ground  was  probed. 
There  was  no  vault,  but  an  earthen  grave  soon  disclosed 
itself,  in  which,  at  about  two  feet  below  the  surface,  a  leaden 
coffin  w^as  reached.     The  wooden  lid  was  almost  „„„,,^„.  „ 

urclVG  01  aJX 

reduced  to  a  mere  film ;  and  from  the  weight  of  ^>^\^^°"''^ 
the  earth  above,  the  leaden  lid  had  given  way  all 
round  the  soldered  edges  of  the  coffin,  and  was  lying  close  on 
the  flattened  skeleton  within.  At  the  foot,  and  nearer  the 
surface,  there  was  a  large  cylindrical  urn,  indicating  that  the 
body  had  been  embalmed.  The  position  of  the  urn,  which 
was  lying  on  its  side,  would  lead  to  the  suspicion  that  both 
it  and  the  coffin  had  been  removed  before,  especially  as  the 
floor  above  was  so  irregular  and  ill  formed. 

The  skeleton  which  was  thus  discovered  was  that  of  a  tall 
man,  6  feet  high,  the  femoral  bone  being  two  feet  long,  and 
the  tibia  15|  in.  The  head  was  well  formed  but  not  large. 
The  teeth  were  fresh  and  bright,  and  were  those  of  a  person 
under  middle  age.  There  was  no  hair  visible.  The  larger 
ligatures  of  the  body  were  still  traceable.  At  the  bottom  of 
the  coffin  was  a  tray  of  wood  about  three  inches  deep,  which, 
it  was  conjectured,  may  have  been  used  to  embalm  the  body. 
The  sides  of  the  wooden  coffin  were  still  in  place ;  here  and 


392  APPENDIX. 

there  tlie  silken  covering  adhering  to  the  wood,  and  to  the 
bones,  as  well  as  pieces  of  the  metal  side-plates,  with  two 
iron  handles  of  the  coffin,  and  several  brass  nails  were  found 
in  the  decaying  wood.  All  such  detached  pieces  were,  after 
examination,  placed  in  a  deal  box  and  replaced  on  the  coffin. 
But  the  most  minute  search  failed  to  discover  any  insignia 
in  the  dust ;  and  not  only  was  there  no  plate  discovered,  but 
no  indication  of  any  such  having  been  affixed.  The  leaden 
lid  of  the  coffin  was  again  placed  over  the  skeleton  ;  the  urn 
was  restored  to  its  former  position ;  and  the  earth  carefully 
filled  in. 

It  was  for  a  moment  apprehended  that  in  these  remains 
the  body  of  James  I.  might  have  been  identified.  But  two 
circumstances  were  fatal  to  this  supposition.  First,  the  skel- 
eton, as  has  been  said,  was  that  of  a  tall  man  ;  whereas  James 
was  rather  below  than  above  the  middle  stature.  Secondly, 
the  Wardrobe  Accounts  of  his  funeral,  above  quoted,  contain 
the  expenses  of  opening  a  vault,  whereas  this  body  was  buried 
in   a   mere   earthen    grave.     Another    alternative. 

Probably  i  i  •  i 

General  whicli  amounted  very  nearly  to  certainty,  was  the 
suggestion  that  these  remains  belonged  to  General 
Charles  Worsley,  the  only  remarkable  man  recorded  to  have 
been  buried  in  the  Chapel  under  the  Protectorate  who  was 
not  disinterred  after  the  Restoration.  The  appearance  of  the 
body  agrees,  on  the  whole,  with  the  description  and  portrait 
of  Worsley.  He  was  in  high  favour  with  Cromwell,  and  was 
the  officer  to  whom,  when  the  mace  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons was  taken  away,  '  that  bauble '  was  committed.  He 
died  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-five,  in  St.  James's  Palace 
(where  two  of  his  children  were  buried  in  the  Chapel  Royal), 
on  June  12,  1656. 

He  was  interred  the  day  following  in  Westminster  Abbey,  in  King 
Henry  VII. 's  Chapel,  near  to  the  grave  of  Sir  William  Constable,  his 
interment  taking  place  in  the  evening  at  nine  o'clock,  and  being  con- 
ducted with  much  pomp.  Heath,  in  his  'Chronicle'  (p.  381),  alluding 
to  his  early  death,  says,  '  Worsley  died  before  he  could  be  good  in  his 


THE  ROYAL  VAULPS.  393 

office,  and  was  buried  with  the  dirges  of  bell,  book,  and  candle,  and  the 
peale  of  musquets,  in  no  less  a  repository  than  Henry  VIl.'s  Chapel, 
as  became  a  Prince  of  the  modern  erection,  and  Olivers  great  and 
rising  favourite.' 

It  has  been  recorded,  that  after  the  interment  of  General  Worsley 
had  taken  place,  Mr.  Roger  Kenyon,  M.P.  for  Clitheroe,  and  Clerk  of 
the  Peace  for  the  County,  himself  a  zealous  royalist,  the  brother-in-law 
of  the  deceased  and  one  of  the  mourners,  returned  secretly  to  the 
Abbey,  and  wrote  upon  the  stone  the  words,  where  never  worse 
LAY,  which  indignantly  being  reported  to  Cromwell,  so  offended  him 
that  he  offered  a  reward  for  the  discovery  of  the  writer. l 

Amongst  the  lieirlooms  of  the  family  at  Piatt,  in  Lan- 
cashire, is  a  portrait  of  this  its  most  celebrated  member.  It 
represents  a  handsome  man,  with  long  flowing  dark  hair. 
This,  in  all  probability,  was  the  figure,  whose  gaunt  bones 
were  thus  laid  bare  in  his  almost  royal  grave,  under  the 
stones  which  had  received  the  obnoxious  inscription  of  his 
Eoyalist  relative.  The  general  appearance  of  the  body,  its 
apparent  youth,  and  its  comely  stature,  agree  with  the  por- 
trait. The  loss  of  the  hair  might  perhaps  be  explained,  if  we 
knew  the  nature  of  the  illness  which  caused  his  death.  The 
embalmment  would  agree  with  his  high  rank;  whilst  the 
rapidity  of  the  funeral,  succeeding  to  his  decease  within  a 
single  day,  would  account  for  the  interment  of  so  distin- 
guished a  personage  in  an  earthen  grave.  The  probable  date 
of  the  burial  place  —  as  if  two  centuries  old  —  suits  with  the 
period  of  his  death.  It  is  a  singular  coincidence  that  the 
one  member  of  Cromwell's  court  who  still  rests  amongst  the 
Kings  is  the  one  of  whom  an  enthusiastic  and  learned  JSTon- 
conformist  of  our  day  has  said,  that  'no  one  appeared  so  fit 
as  he  to  succeed  to  the  Protectorate,  and  if  the  Common- 
wealth was  to  have  been  preserved,  his  life  would  have  been 
prolonged  for  its  preservation.'  "^ 

With  this  interesting,  though  as  far  as  the  particular  object 

1  History  of  Birch  Chapel,  by  the  Rev.  J.  Booker,  pp.  48,  49 ;  to 
whom  I  have  to  express  my  obligations  for  his  kindness  in  aiding  me 
to  ascertain  all  that  could  be  known  of  General  Worsley. 

2  Dr.  HaUey's  Nonconformity  of  Lancashire,  vol.  ii.  p.  37. 


394  APPENDIX. 

of  the  search  was  concerned,  futile  attempt,  which  embraced 
also  the  adjacent  area  • —  found  to  be  entirely  vacant  —  be- 
tween Henry  VII.'s  tomb  and  the  Eichmond  Chapel,  the 
examination  ceased. 

Every  conceivable  space  in  the  Chapel  had  now  been  ex- 
plored, except  the  actual  vault  of  Henry  VII.  himself.  To 
this  the  Abbey  Register  had  from  the  first  pointed ;  and  it 
may  seem  strange  that  this  hint  had  not  been  followed  up 
before.  But  the  apparent  improbability  of  such  a  place  for 
the  interment  of  the  first  Stuart  King ;  the  positive  contra- 
diction of  the  printed  accounts  of  Keepe,  Crull,  and  Dart ; 
the  absence  of  any  such  indications  in  the  Heralds'  Office ; 
the  interment  of  the  Queen  in  tlie  spot  to  which  these  au- 
thorities pointed  —  thus,  as  it  seemed,  furnishing  a  guarantee 
for  their  correctness  ;  the  aspect  of  the  stones  at  the  foot  of 
the  tomb  of  Henry  VII.  as  if  always  unbroken  ;  the  difficulty 
of  supposing  that  an  entrance  could  have  been  forced  through 
the  passage  at  its  head,  already  occupied  by  the  coffin  of 
Edward  VI.  ;  it  may  be  added,  the  reluctance,  except  under 
the  extremest  necessity,  of  penetrating  into  the  sacred  resting- 
place  of  the  august  founder  of  the  Chapel  —  had  precluded 
an  attempt  on  this  vault,  until  every  other  resource  had  been 
exhausted.  That  necessity  had  now  come ;  and  it  was  deter- 
mined as  a  last  resort  to  ascertain  whether  any  entrance  could 
be  found.  At  the  east  end  the  previous  examination  of  the 
Ormond  vault  had  shown  that  no  access  could  be  obtained 
from  below,  and  the  undisturbed  appearance  of  the  stones  at 
the  foot  of  the  tomb,  as  just  observed,  indicated  the  same  from 
above.  On  the  north  and  south  the  wall  of  the  enclosure 
was  found  impenetrable.  There  remained,  therefore,  only  the 
chance  from  the  already  encumbered  approach  on  the  west. 

In  that  narrow  space,  accordingly,  the  excavation  was 
begun.  On  opening  the  marble  pavement,  the  ground  be- 
Vauit  of  neath  was  found  very  loose,  and  pieces  of  brick 
Henry  VII.  ^mougst  it.  Soon  Under  the  step  and  enclosure, 
a  corbel  was  discovered,   immediately  under  the   panelled 


THE   ROYAL  VAULTS. 


395 


curb,  evidently  to  form  an  opening  beneath ;  and  onward  to 
the  east  the  earth  was  cleared,  until  the  excavators  reached  a 
large  stone,  like  a  wall,  surmounted  and  joined  on  the  north 
side  with  smaller  stones,  and  brickwork  over  all.  This  was 
evidently  an  entrance.  The  brickwork  and  the  smaller  stones 
on  the  top  were  gradually  removed,  and  then  the  apex  of  the 
vertical  end  of  a  flat-pointed  arch  of  firestone  became  exposed. 
It  was  at  once  evident  that  the  vault  ^  of  Edward  VI.  was 


r '.  i'  'i '. '  I 


WEST  END.      HENRY  VII.  S  VAULT. 

only  the  continuation  westward  of  the  passage  into  the  en- 
trance of  the  Tudor  vault,  and  that  this  entrance  was  now  in 
view.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  breathless  anxiety  amounting 
to  solemn  awe,  which  caused  the  humblest  of  the  workmen 


^  It  may  be  observed  that  the  regular  approach  to  the  vault,  though 
afterwards  disturbed  by  the  grave  of  Edward  VI.,  may  have  been 
intended  to  have  given  a  more  public  and  solemn  access,  especially  at 
the  time  when  the  translation  of  the  body  of  Henry  VI.  was  still 
meditated.     See  Chapter  III. 


396 


APPENDIX. 


employed  to  whisper  with  bated  breath,  as  the  small  opening 
at  the  apex  of  the  arch  admitted  the  first  glimpse  into  the 
mysterious  secret  which  had  hitherto  eluded  this  long  re- 
search. Deep  within  the  arched  vault  were  dimly  seen  three 
coffins  lying  side  by  side  —  two  of  them  dark  and  gray  with 
age,  the  third  somewhat  brighter  and  newer,  and  of  these,  on 
the  introduction  of  a  light  into  the  aperture,  the  two  older 
appeared  to  be  leaden,  one  bearing  an  inscription,  and  the 
third,  surrounded  by  a  case  of  wood,  bearing  also  an  inscrip- 
tion plate.     The  mouth  of  the  cavern  was  closed,  as  has  been 


ii   I 


PLAN   OF  VAULTS  OF 
EDWAED   VI.  AND  HENRY  VII. 


already  intimated,   by  a  huge  stone,  which,  as  in  Jewish 

sepulchres,  had  been  rolled  against  the  entrance.     Above  this 

was  a  small  mass  of  brickwork  (which  just  filled  a  space  of 

about  twelve  inches  by  nine  inches,  near  the  top  of  the  arch). 

This  was  removed,  and  displayed  an  aperture  (technically  a 

*  man-hole ')  which  had  been  the  means  of  egress  for  whoever 

having  (as  in  patriarchal  days)  assisted  in  placing  the  large 

stone  at  the  mouth  of  the  sepulchre,  and  arranged  all  within, 

came  out,  and  finally,  at  the  last  interment,  closed  up  the 

small  point  of  exit. 

Through   this    aperture    the  vault  was  entered,   and   the 

detailed  examination   of  the  vault  at  once   corn- 
Discovery  of  -1  m,  1   •     1  ^        1     •  J  1  11 

the  coffin  of  menccd.      The  third  coffin  lying  on  the  northern 

T  ■  T  */         o 

side  was  immediately  found  to  be  that  of  King 
James  I.,  as  indicated  beyond  question  in  the  long  inscription 


THE    COFFINS    OF    JAMKS    I.,     ELIZABETH    OF    YORK,    AND    HENRY    VII. 
AS   SEEN    ON    THE   OPENING   OF   THE   VAULT   IN    1869. 


FROM   A    DRAWING   BY  GEORGE   SCHARF,    ESQ. 


THE   ROYAL   VAULTS.  397 

engraved  on  a  copper  plate  soldered  to  the  lead  coffin.^  It 
was  surrounded  with  the  remains  of  a  wooden  case.  This 
case  had  been  made  out  of  two  logs  of  solid  timber,  which 
had  been  scooped  out  to  receive  the  shape 
of  the  leaden  cofl&n.  The  two  other  coffins 
were  as  indisputably  those  of  Henry  VII, 
and  his  Queen.  The  centre  coffin  doubt- 
less was  that  of  Elizabeth  of  York,  although 
with  no  inscription  to  mark  it ;  the  larger  one  on  the  south 
or  dexter  side  was  (as  might  be  expected)  that  of  her  royal 
husband,  Henry  VII.,  and  bore  his  name.  These  two  coffins 
were  bare  lead,  the  wooden  casing,  even  that  underneath, 
being  wholly  removed.  It  became  evident,  on  considering 
the  narrowness  of  the  entrance  as  well  as  that  of  the  vault, 
that  originally  the  first  two  coffins  had  occupied  a  position 
on  either  side  of  the  central  line,  but  when  the  vault  was 
invaded  to  place  the  third  coffin,  the  first  two  were  stripped 

1  If  ever  there  had  been  a  plate  of  gilt  copper,  with  inscription,  as 

given  by  Dart,  vol.  i.  p.  167,  it  must  have  been  taken  away  when  the 

vault  was  closed  in  1625.    The  inscription  on  the  coffin  is  as  follows :  — 

Depositum 

Augustissimi 

Principis  Jacobi  Primi,  Magnre  BritannijE 

Franciae  et  Hiberniae  Regis,  qui  natus  apud  Scotos  xiii.  Cal.  Jul.  An° 

Salutis 

MDLXII.  piissime 

apud  Anglos  occubuit  v.  Cal.  Ap. 

An"  a  Christo  nato  MDCXXV. 

Vixit  an.  lviii.  men.  ix.  dies  viii. 

Regnavit  apud 

(  Scotos  a.  LVii.  m.  vii.  dies  xxix. 

I  Anglos,  an.  xxii.  d.  iii. 

The  inscription  in  Dart  runs  thus :  — 
Depositum 
Invictissimi  Jacobi  Primi,  Magnae  Britannise,  Franciae,  et  Hiberniae 
Regis,  qui  rerum  apud  Scotos  annos  59,  menses  3,  dies  12,  et  apud 
Anglos  annos  22  et  dies  3,  pacifice  et  feliciter  potitus,  tandem  in  Dom- 
ino obdormivit  27  die  Martii,  anno  a  Christo  nato,  1625,  aet.  vero 
suae  60. 


398  APPENDIX. 

of  their  cases  and  coverings,  the  coffin  of  Henry  VII.  re- 
moved more  to  the  south  wall,  and  that  of  his  Queen  then 
superposed  to  give  convenient  entry  to  the  enormous  bulk  of 
the  third  cotfin.  The  Queen's  was  then  replaced  on  the 
floor  between  them  in  the  little  space  left. 

The  leaden  coffins  of  all  three  Sovereigns,  which  were  all 
in   good   condition,   were  slightly  shaped  to   the  head  and 

shoulders   and    straight   downward. 
Elizabeth  of  The    Queen's   was    somewhat    mis-  \   / 

'^^  '  shapen  at  the  top,  —  perhaps  from  j^__^         j 

having   been   more   frequently   removed,  i     It  /_\ 

had    on   it   the    mark   of   the   soldering  of  a 
Maltese  Cross,  but  no  other  vestige  remained.     That  of  the 
King  was  indicated  by  a  short  inscrip- 
tion on  a  plate  of  lead  soldered,  about 
^  „     ,        24  inches  long  and  4  inches 

Coffin  of  ° 

Henry  VII.     -wide,  with  raised  letters  of 
the    period    upon   it    preceded    by   a 

broad  capital  H  of  the  early  type.  The  inscription  was 
placed  the  lengthway  of  the  coffin,  and  was  read  from  west  to 
east.^  At  the  west  end  of  the  coffin-lid  was  painted  a  cir- 
cular Maltese  Cross,  as  though  to  precede  the  inscription. 
The  pall  of  silk,  marked  by  a  white  cross,  which  is  recorded 
to  have  covered  the  length  of  Henry  VII. 's  coffin,  must, 
with  every  other  like  object  of  value,  have  been  stripped 
off  and  taken  away  when  the  vault  was  opened  to  admit 
the  Stuart  King.  A  certain  John  Ware,  and  one  whose 
initials  were  K  C,  must  have  been  at  least  privy  to  this 
rifling  and  violence,  for  they  have  quaintly  scratched  their 
names,^   with   the   date    1625    under   each.      These   marks 

1  It  had  been  moved  at  least  once  from  the  side  chapel  to  this 
vault  (see  Chapter  III.  p.  199);  and  probably  again,  as  noticed 
above. 

2  Hie  est  Henricus,  Rex  Angliae  et  Francise  ac  Dominiis  Hiberniae, 
hujus  nominis  septimus,  qui  obiit  xxi.  die  Aprilis,  anno  regni  sui 
xxiiii.  et  incarnationis  dominicae  MVIX. 

8  Another  trace  of  the  workmen,  curiously  significant  as  found  in 


THE   ROYAL   VAULTS.  399 

clearly  show  that  here  iu  1G25  King  James  was  interred, 
and  that  he  has  remained  unmoved  ever  since. 

It  is  remarkable  that,  although  the  bodies  must  have  been 
embalmed,  no  urns  were  in  the  vault,  although  they  are  known 
to  have  been  buried  with  due  solemnity  soon  after  death.  Per- 
haps their  place  may  have  been  in  Monk's  Vault,  where  Dart 
describes  himself  to  have  seen  the  urn  of  Anne  of  Denmark, 
and  where,  on  the  last  entrance  in  1867,  several  ancient  urns 
were  discovered. 

The  vault  is  partly  under  the  floor  of  the  west  end  of  the 
enclosure  of  the  tomb,  and  partly  under  the  tomb  itself;  so 
that  the  western  end  of  the  arch  is  nearly  coincident  with 
the  inside  of  the  Purbeck  marble  curb  above,  and  the  east- 
ern end  about  2|  feet  west  of  the  eastern  extremity  of  the 
tomb  above.  Thus  the  vault  is  not  quite  conformable  with 
the  tomb,  but  is  so  placed  that  tlie  western  face  of  it  abuts 
against  the  thick  bounding  wall  which  crosses  the  chancel.^ 
This  want  of  conformity  with  the  direction  of  the  tomb 
doubtless  arose  from  the  circumstance  that  the  vault  was 
excavated  before  the  tomb  above  was  designed.  The  vault 
is  beautifully  formed  of  large  blocks  of  firestone.  It  is 
8  feet  10  inches  long,  5  feet  wide,  and,  from  floor  to  apex, 
4^  feet  high.  The  arch  is  of  a  fine  four-centred  Tudor  form  ; 
and  the  floor,  which  is  stone,   is  about   5 J  feet  below  the 

searching  for  the  grave  of  the  Royal  author  of  the  '  Counterblast 
against  Tobacco,'  was  the  fragment  of  a  tobacco-pipe  thrown  out 
amongst  the  earth  in  effecting  the  entrance.  The  gravedigger  may 
have  felt  that  he  could  smoke  in  peace,  now  that  the  great  enemy  of 
the  Indian  weed  was  gone. 

1  In  speaking  of  the  workmanship  of  Henry  VII. 's  tomb,  it  may  be 
worth  recording  that,  in  1857,  the  Abbey  mason  found  a  fragment  of 
printed  paper  (perhaps  from  Caxton's  printing  press)  crumpled  up  in 
one  of  the  octagonal  piers  at  the  angle  of  the  tomb,  almost  out  of 
reach,  headed  with  two  rude  woodcuts  of  S.  Anne  of  Tottenham,  and 
S.  George,  and  underneath  the  emblems  of  the  Passion,  with  an  indul- 
gence from  '  Pope  Innocent  to  all  who  devoutly  say  five  paternosters 
and  five  aves  in  honour  of  the  Five  Wounds,'  and  ending  with  an  in- 
vocation of  S.  George. 


400  APPENDIX. 

floor  of  the  tomb.  The  masonry  is  very  neatly  wrought  and 
truly  placed.  The  stone  exhibited  hardly  the  least  sign  of 
decay,  and,  from  its  absorptive  and  porous  nature,  there  was 
no  appearance  of  dew-drops  on  the  ceiling.^  To  this  cause 
may  be  attributed  the  high  preservation  of  the  lead  of  the 
cofl&ns  of  these  three  sovereigns  ;  whereas  the  lead  of  Ed- 
ward VI.'s  coffin  (which  was  under  a  marble  ceiling  always 
dropping  water  by  condensation  on  its  surface)  had  been 
fearfully  contorted  and  almost  riven  asunder  by  perpetual 
corrosion.  This  was  the  more  remarkable  from  the  extreme 
damp  of  the  vault,  as  well  as  the  atmosphere  within,  which 
struck  a  deadly  chill  when  the  vault  was  first  opened : 
whereas  on  the  same  firestone  in  the  cloisters  the  outer 
atmosphere  when  moist  tells  with  such  force  that  the  floor 
beneath  is  quite  spotted  with  particles  of  stone  detached 
thereby  from  the  groining  above.  ^ 

The  final  discovery  of  this  place  of  interment  curiously 
confirmed  the  accuracy  of  the  Abbey  Register,  whose  one 
brief  notice  was  the  sole  written  indication  of  the  fact,  in 
contradiction  to  all  the  printed  accounts,  and  in  the  silence 
of  all  the  official  accounts.  But  its  main  interest  arose  from 
the  insight  which  it  gave  into  the  deep  historical  instinct 
which  prompted  the  founder  of  the  Stuart  Dynasty,  Scots- 
man and  almost  foreigner  as  he  was,  to  ingraft  his  family  and 
fate  on  that  of  the  ancient  English  stock  through  which  he 
derived  his  title  to  the  Crown.  Apart  from  his  immediate 
and  glorious  predecessor  —  apart  from  his  mother,  then  lying 
in  her  almost  empty  vault  with  his  eldest  son  —  apart  from 

1  Such  drops  are  frequently  found  on  brick  arches,  and  always  on 
the  ceilings  of  vaults  covered  with  compact  stone  or  marble. 

2  In  removing  the  effigies  of  Henry  VII.  and  his  Queen  from  the 
structure  of  their  tomb  for  the  purpose  of  cleaning,  there  were  found 
in  the  hollow  space  beneath  some  gilt  ornaments,  evidently  belonging 
to  the  gilt  crown  which  once  encircled  the  head  of  the  bronze  effigy  of 
the  Queen,  and  also  the  name  of  an  Italian  workman,  apparently  Fr. 
Medolo,  which  must  have  been  scratched  on  the  wall  at  the  time  that 
Torregiano  erected  it. 


THE   EOYAL   VAULTS.  401 

his  two  beloved  infant  daughters  —  apart  from  his  Queen, 
who  lies  alone  in  her  ample  vault  as  if  waiting  for  her  hus- 
band to  fill  the  vacant  space  —  the  first  Stuart  King  who 
united  England  and  Scotland  was  laid  in  the  venerable 
cavern,  for  such  in  effect  it  is,  which  contained  the  remains 
of  the  first  Tudor  King  who,  with  his  Queen,  had  united  the 
two  contending  factions  of  English  medieval  history.^  The 
very  difficulty  of  forcing  the  entrance,  the  temporary  displace- 
ment of  Edward  VI.  and  of  Elizabeth  of  York,  the  sanctity 
of  the  spot,  and  the  means  taken  almpst  as  with  religious 
vigilance  to  guard  against  further  intrusion  —  show  the 
strength  of  the  determination  which  carried  the  first  King 
of  Great  Britain  into  the  tomb  of  the  last  of  the  Mediaeval 
Kings,  which  laid  the  heir  of  the  Celtic  traditions  of  Scot- 
land by  the  side  of  the  heir  of  the  Celtic  traditions  of  Wales, 
the  Solomon,  as  he  deemed  himself,  of  his  own  age,  by  the 
side  of  him  whom  a  wiser  than  either  had  already  called  the 
Solomon  of  England.^  It  is  ^  possible  also  that  the  obscurity 
which  has  hitherto  rested  on  the  place  of  James's  interment 
may  have  been  occasioned  by  the  reluctance  of  the  English 
sentiment  to  admit  or  proclaim  the  fact  that  the  sacred 
resting-place  of  the   Father   of  the   Tudor  race   had   been 

1  The  following  extract  from  Bishop  Turner's  sermon  at  the  coro- 
nation of  James  11.,  April  23,  1685,  shows  how  long  this  sentiment  of 
the  union  of  the  rival  houses  lasted  :  — '  Think  how  much  Royal  dust 
and  ashes  is  laid  up  in  yonder  chapel.  There  the  Houses  of  York  and 
Lancaster  rest  quietly  under  one  roof.  There  does  Queen  Mary  and 
her  sister,  Queen  Elizabeth,  lie  close  together ;  their  ashes  do  not  part. 
In  the  story  of  Polynices  and  Eteocles,  two  brothers,  rivals  for  a 
crown,  we  are  told  their  smoke  divided  into  two  pyramids  as  it  as- 
cended from  one  funeral  pile ;  but  here  the  dusts  do  as  kindly  mingle, 
as  all  the  old  piques  and  aversions  are  soundly  asleep  with  them.  And 
so  shall  we  be  ere  long  —  most  of  us  in  a  meaner  lodging,  but  all  of  us 
in  the  dust  of  death.'    (P.  28.) 

2  Bacon's  Henry  VII.,  iii.  406. 

3  For  the  funeral  of  Henry  VIL  see  Chapter  III.  p.  200,  and  of 
James  I.  ibid.  p.  218. 

VOL.  II.  —  26 


402  APPENDIX. 

invaded  by  one  who  was  still  regarded  as  a  stranger  and  an 
alien.  ^ 

While  the  vault  was  yet  open  there  happened  to  be  a 
meeting  of  high  dignitaries  of  Church  and  State,  assembled 
on  a  Royal  Commission  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  under 
the  presidency  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  It  seemed 
but  fitting  that  the  first  visitor  to  the  tomb  of  the  Royal  Scot 
should  have  been  a  Primate  from  beyond  the  Tweed,  and  it 
was  with  a  profound  interest  that  the  first  Scotsman  who  had 
ever  reached  the  highest  office  in  the  English  Church  bent 
over  the  grave  of  the  first  Scotsman  who  had  mounted  the 
throne  of  the  Pmglish  State.  He  was  followed  by  the  Earl 
of  Stanhope  (who,  as  President  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries, 
had  expressed  from  the  first  lively  interest  in  these  excava- 
tions), the  Earl  of  Carnarvon,  and  the  Bishops  of  St.  David's, 
Oxford,  Gloucester,  and  Chester.  The  Canons  in  residence 
(Canons  Jennings,  Nepean,  and  Conway)  were  also  present; 
as  was  the  Architect  of  the  Abbey,  Mr.  G.  Gilbert  Scott,  who 
minutely  inspected  the  whole  locality.^ 

Such  was  the  close  of  an  inquiry  which,  after  having  dis- 
closed so  many  curious  secrets,  ended  in  a  result  almost  as 
interesting  as  that  which  attended  the  discovery  of  the  vardt 
of  Charles  I.  at  Windsor.  It  was,  in  fact,  observed  as  a  strik- 
ing parallel,  that  over  the  graves  of  each  of  the  first  Stuart 
kings  a  similar  mystery  had  hung ;  and  that  each  was  at  last 
found  in  the  chosen  resting-place  of  tlie  first  Tudor  kings  — 
James  I.  with  Henry  VII.  and  Elizabeth  of  York ;  Charles  I. 

^  Dean  Williams  only  refers  generally  to  'the  sepulchre  of  the 
kings  erected  by  Henry  VII.,  his  great-grandfather,  just  as  this  other 
Solomon  was  in  the  city  of  David  his  father.'  {Serm.  p.  75.)  See  also 
Chapter  IV. 

2  Throughout  I  derived  considerable  aid  from  the  suggestions  of 
Mr.  Froude,  the  historian  ;  Mr.  Doyne  Bell,  of  the  Privy  Purse  Office, 
Buckingham  Palace ;  and  Mr.  Scharf,  Keeper  of  the  National  Portrait 
Gallery,  who  were  present  during  a  large  part  of  the  operations,  which 
extended,  at  intervals,  over  more  than  three  weeks. 


THE   KOYAL  VAULTS.  403 

with  Henry  VIII.  and  Jane  Seymour.  The  vault  was  closed, 
and  at  its  entrance  was  placed  a  tablet  inscribed,  '  This  vault 
was  opened  by  the  Dean,  February  11,  1869.' 

Note.  — It  appears  from  the  Sacrist's  accounts  (under  the  head  of 
Solutiones  pro  Serenissimaj  Dominae  Margaret®  Comitissse  de  Rych- 
monte  missis  a  Festo  Paschae,  anno  Regni  H.  VII.  xx.),  that  £1  \s'.8d. 
was  paid  in  that  year  to  Thomas  Gardiner  pro  facturd  tumbce  Matris 
Domini  Regis.  This  must  have  been  in  Margaret's  lifetime.  Mr. 
Doyue  Bell  has  furnished  me  with  the  item  for  the  payment  of  the 
inscription  and  cross  on  Henry  VII.'s  coffin  :  — '  The  Plomer's  charge 
for  crosse  of  lead  and  making  of  molds  of  scrypture  about  the  cross, 
£6  13s.  4a?.'  (5)  The  appearance  of  bronze  or  'cast  brass'  of  the 
effigies  of  Henry  VII.  and  his  Queen,  as  well  as  of  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, seems  to  have  been  visible  in  1672  [Antiquarian  Repertory,  iv. 
565). 


INDEX. 


Note. — Names  of  persons  buried  in  the  Abbey  are  in  italics,  as  — Anne 
of  Denmark ;  those  who  are  buried  and  have  monuments  are  thus  dis- 
tinguished, as  —  ° Addison;  those  who  have  monuments  and  are  not 
buried  in  the  Abbe_y,  thus  —  t  Anstey,  Christopher ;  those  who  are  in 
the  Cloisters,  thus  —  *  Agarde. 


ABB 

A  BBACY,  abolition  of,  ii.  217,  218; 
-^^     revival   of,    under   Mary.  223; 

final  abolition  of,  231 
Abbey,  the,  founded  by  Edward  the 
Confessor  on  an  ancient  chapel  of 
St.  Peter,  i.  19,  23 ;  the  building, 
30,  31  ;  first  cruciform  church  in 
England,  31  ;  the  establishment, 
32;  the  dedication,  35;  effects  of 
the  Confessor's  character  on  the 
foundation  of,  39;  connection  of 
with  the  Conquest,  40  ;  with  the 
English  Constitution,  42;  founda- 
tion of  Lady  Chapel,  149  ;  rebuilt 
by  Henry  III.,  149-154;  continued 
by  Edward  I.,  167;  nave  built  by 
Henry  V.,  179;  plan  of,  showing 
tombs  as  they  appeared  in  1509, 
198 ;  continued  by  Islip,  ii.  135 
Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  i.  193-199 

first  musical   festival   in,  ii.  252 

west  towers  built,  332 
Abbot,  Archbishop,  iii.  129 
Abbots  of  Westminster,  ii.  127;  under 

the  Normans,  129  ;   the  Plantage- 

nets,  132  ;  the  Tudors,  134,   135  ; 

their   burialplace,   129  ;    Place    or 

Palace  of,  161;  privileges  of,  i.  58; 

list  of,  ii.  127-136 
Abbott,  Peter,  his  wager,  i.  80  note, 

ii.  69  note 


ANN 

Actors,  the,   ii.  60 ;    attitude  of  the 

Church  towards,  60 
Adam,  ii.  73 
° Addison,  funeral,  ii.  34-36, 63;  grave, 

1.   305  ;    monument,    ii.   35.     See 

'  Spectator ' 
*Agarde,  antiquarian,  ii.  195 
Agincourt,  Battle  of,  i.  180, 185,  150  ; 

ii.  82 
Albemarle  (George  Monk),  Duke  of, 

i.  293 
Aldred,  Archbishop,  i.  29,  36,  54 
Alexander   HI.   of    Scotland,    i.   71, 

162 
Alfonso,  son  of  Edward  I.,  i.  167 
Almonry,  the,  i.  202,  203,  ii.  160,  212 

note 
'  Altar '  of  the  Abbey  —  when  and 

how  so  called,  ii.  357;  its  history, 

357-360 
Amelia,  daughter   of  George  II.,  i. 

2.34 
Ampulla,  the,  i.  85 
'  Anchorite's  house,'  ii.  169,  199,  222 
^ Andre,  Major,  i.  332 
Andrew,   St.,   plan   of  chapel   of,   i. 

264 
Andrewes,  Dean  and  Bishop,  ii.  195; 

interest  in  the  school,  242 
Anne,  Princess,  daughter  of  Charles 
I.,  1.  219 


406 


INDEX. 


ANN 
°Anne  of  Bohemia,  Queen  of  Richard 

II.,  1.  176 
Anne  Boleyn,  coronation,  5.  90 
°Anne  of  'Cleves,  i.  100,  208 ;  tomb 

of,  208  note 
Anne  of  Denmark,  i.  103,  21S;    ii. 

375;  vault  of,  375-377 
Anne  Hyde,  Duchess  of  York,  i.  228, 

ii.  381 
Anne  Alotcbray  of  York,  i.  191 
Anne  of  Warwick,  i.  190,  191 
Anne,  Queen,  coronation,  i.  115,  230; 
children,  ii.  381;  burial,  i.  230;  wax 
figure,  ii.  118,  -368 
Anne's,  St.,  Chapel  and  Lane,  ii.  160 
Anointing  in  coronation,  i.  50 
Anselm,  Archbishop,  ii.  185,  202 
'\Anstey,  Christopher,  ii.  56 
'  Antioch  Chamber,'  ii.  164,  187  note 
Apollo,  temple  of,  i.  11 
Aquitaine,  representatives  of  Dukes 
of,  at  coronation  of  George  III.,  i. 
124 
Arabella  Stuart,  i.  217,  ii.  379 
Archdeacon  of  Westminster,  his  priv- 
ileges, ii.  126;  first,  1.30 
^Argyll  and  Greenwich,  John,  Duke 
of,  tomb  of  himself  and  family,  i. 
322;  ii.  373,373  note 
Arnold,  Benedict,  i.  333  note 
°Arnold,  Samuel,  ii.  70 
Arnold,  Thomas,  quoted,  i.  131  note 
Arthur,  King,  coronation  of,  i.  52 
Arthur,  Prince  (son  of  Henry  VII.), 

i.  203 
Ashburnham  House,  ii.  218  note,  328 
Assembly  of  Divines,  ii.  268-276 
Atterbury,   Dean  and   Bishop ;    ap- 
pointment to  the  Deanery,  ii.  301; 
love   for   Milton,  30  ;    interest  in 
the  Abbey,    302  ;    in    the   School, 
303,  311 ;  letter  to  Pope,  i.  313,  319; 
interest  in   the  epitaphs,  321 ;   ii. 
27,29,30,  38;   on  Freind,  78;   in- 
terest in  burial  of  Addison,  34;  cT 
Mar'.borough,  i.  313;   of  South,  ii. 
301;    plots,  308;  exile  and  death, 
311;  buried,  ii.  49,  .311 
Arigusta,   mother   of   George  III.,  i. 
234 


BEN 

°Avetine,    Countess  of  Lancaster,  i. 

165 
Aye  or  Eye  Brook,  i.  9,  ii.  140 
°Ayton,  Sir  Robert,  ii.  22 


"DACON,  sculptor,  ii.  4  note 

-^     °BaynaU,  Nicholas,  ii.  88 

fBaillie,  Dr.  Matthew,  ii.  79 

f  Baker,  i.  328 

iBnlchen,  i.  328 

Bangor,  Bishop  of,  ii.  322 

•^Banks,  Thomas,  ii.  287 

Baptisms,  ii.  343 

Barking  (or  Berking),  Abbot,  i.  149; 

instigator  of  the  Lady  Chapel,  ii. 

129,  172,  131 
°Barrov),  Isaac,  ii.  45,  46,  293 
*  Barry,  actor,  ii.  65 
°Barry,  Sir  Charles,  ii.  73 
Bath,  Knights  of  the,  i.  83,  85;  new 

arrangement  of,  117-121 ;  first  Dean 

of,  ii.  330;  Lord  Dundonald's  ban- 
ner, 1.  120,  ii.  112 
^Bath,  Pulteney,  Earl  of,  his  funeral, 

i.  324 
'  Battle  of  Ivry,'  i.  270  note 
Baxter,  Richard,  i.  106;  sermon  of, 

ii.  268 
Baj-eux  tapestry,  i.  41,  45,  53  note, 

54  note 
fBayne,  Captain,  i.  331 
Beattie,  quoted,  ii.  103  note 
Beauclerk  family,  i.  267 
] Btauclerk,  Lord  Aubrey,  i.  328 
Beaumont,  i.  139,  ii.  18 
Becket,   Thomas,    i.  62,   63,  159,  ii. 

152 
*Behn,  Aphara,  ii.  33 
Belfry  at  Westminster,  ii.  149 
Bell  of  Westminster,  li.  142,  348 
°Bell,  Andrew,  ii.  50  note 
Bell,  Captain  H.,  in  the  Gatehouse, 

ii.  146 
Benedict,  St.,  i.  174 ;  plan  of  chapel 

of,  282 
Bennett,  Sir  William  Sterndale,  li. 

70 
Benson,  last  abbot  and  first  dean,  ii. 

222 


INDEX. 


407 


Bentley,  Dr.,  ii.  329 

Berktley,  Sir  William,  i.  298 

*Betterton,  burial  of,  ii   63 

Bible  presented  at  coronations,  1.  96, 

107,  114 
Bible,  translation  of  the  English,  ii. 

326 
°Bill,  Dean,  ii.  239 
^Bi/son,  Bishop,  ii.  45  note 
^Bincjfield,  O.lonel,  i.  309 
iBinc/ham,  Sir  R.,  i.  271 
iBirkhead,  Anne,  ii.  92 
Bishop  of  London,  i.  24,  61,  ii.  125, 126 
Bishop  of  Westminster,  i.  96,  ii.  218 
'  Black  Death '  at  Westminster,  ii.  132 
Blngg,   Thomas,  i.  296  note 
iBlair,  Captain,  i.  331 
Blaize,  St.,  Chapel  of,   ii.  134,  137, 

222 
Blake,  Admiral,  i.  288,  289 
Blessed  heretic,  the,  ii.  332 
Blomfield,  Bishop,  i.  131  note,  ii.  125 

note 
*Blount,  G.,  ii.  114  note 
°Blow,  Dr.  John,  ii.  69 
°Bohun  children,  i.  174 
Bond,  Denis,  i.  289,  ii.  266 
Bonner,  Bishop,    sings   Mass  in  the 

Abbey,  ii.  229 
iBooth,  Barton,  the  actor,  i.  125,  ii. 

278 
Boscawen,  Colonel,  i.  290  note 
°Boulter,  Archbishop,  ii.  50  note,  330 
Bourbon,  Armand  and  Charlotte  de, 

ii.  96 
Bourchier,  Cardinal   Archbishop,   ii. 

156 
°Bonrchier,  Humphrey,  i.  251 
'  Bowling  Alley  '  and  gardens,  ii.  139 
*Bracegirdle,  Mrs.,  ii.  63 
°Bradford,  Dean,  first  Dean  of  the 

Order  of   the   Bath,    ii.   329,   374 

note 
Bradshaw,  John,  lives  and   dies  at 

the  Deanery,  i.  290,  li.  276;  burial, 

i.  290;  disinterment,  223 
Bradshaw,  Mrs.,  i.  290 
Bray,  Sir  Reginald,  i.  89,  198 
Bi-idges,  Winyfred,  Marchioness  of 

Winchester,  i.  259 


CAM 

Brigham,  Nicholas,  ii.  15 
Brithwold,  Bishop,  i.  20 
°Brocas,  Sir  Bernard,  i.  250,  256 
° Bromley,  Sir  Thomas,  i.  259 
*Broughton,  J.,  ii.  98 
Broughton,  Sir  E.,  i.  298 
jBrown,  Tom,  ii.  33 
jBrunet,  ii.  84 
Brydges,  Frances,  i.  266 
*Buchan,  Dr.,  ii.  79  note 
^Buckingham,  Countess  of,  i.  276 
^Buckingham,  G.  Villiers,  first  Z»M/i;e 

o/,  i.  277;    death,  277;   tomb,  277; 

monument,  278;  second  Duke  of, 

279 
Buckingham  House,  i.  317 
° Buckinghamshire,  Duchess  of,  i.  317; 

wax  figure,  ii.  119 
°Buckinghamshire,    Sheffield,    Duke 

of,  monument,  i.  317;  epitaph,  319; 

vault  of,  ii.  378;   second  Duke  of, 

death,  i.318;  wax  figure,  ii.  119 
Auckland,  Dean,  ii.  343,  .354 
Buckland,  Frank,  quoted,  ii.  21  note, 

80 
jBuller,  Charles,  ii.  12 
Burgesses   of  Westminster,    ii.   248, 

311 
*Burgoyne,  General,  i.  332 
Burke,  li.  66  note ;  visit  to  the  Abbey, 

i.  241,  li.  89  note,  102,  350 
\ Burleigh,  Lord,  i.  261 
Burleigh,  Mildred  Cecil,  Lady,  and 

daughter  Anne,   Countess  of  Ox- 
ford, i.  265 
Burnet,  Bishop,  ii,  323 
iBurney,  Dr.  Charles,  ii.  70 
Burrough,  Sir  John,  i.  270  note 
°Busby,  Dr.,  ii.  47,  279,  280,  283 
^ Butler,  Samuel,  ii.  31 
'\ Buxton,  Fowell,  ii.  12 
*Byrcheston,  Abbot,  ii.  1.32 
Byron,  Lord,  ii.  57,  58,  105 


CADWALLADER,  the  last  British 
King,  1.  197 
Cambridge,  connection  of  Westmin- 
ster School  with  Trinity  College,  li. 
237 


408 


INDEX. 


CAM 

°Camden,  ii.  42  ;  Headmaster,  ii.  195, 

241,  242;  outrage   to  his  tomb,  i. 

286,  ii.  42 
°  Campbell,  Thomas,  ii.  57 
°Canning,  Earl,  ii.  10 
°Canning,  George,  ii.  9 
Canon  Row,  i.  8,  ii.  193  note 
Canterbury,  Arclibisliop  of,  his  rights, 

i.  59,  60,  ii.  20.3 
Canterbury  Cathedral,  i.  174,  179,  ii. 

151 
°Carew,  Lord,  i.  251 
Carey,  Dr.,  Headmaster,  ii.  342 
°Carleton,  Dudley,  i.  271 
Caroline,   Queen  (of  George  H.),  i. 

231 
CaroHne,  Queen  (of  George  IV.),  i. 

127-129 
Caroline,  daughter  of  George  H.,  i. 

234 
°  Carter,  Colonel,  i.  290  ncte 
Carter,  the  antiquary,  i.  317,  324  note, 

329  7iote,  ii.  187  note,  352 
^Carteret  Family,  ii.  89 
Gary,  Henry,  ii.  57 
°Cary,  Thomas,  i.  283 
°Casaubon,  Isaac,  ii.  41,  42,  104 
°Castlereagh,  Viscount,  ii.  9 
'  Cathedral,'  applied  to  Abbey,  i.  77, 

96,  ii.  218,  231,  2.32 
°Catherine,     Princess,    daughter    of 

Henry  HI.,  i.  163 
Catherine  of    Valois,    Queen,  i.  87, 

181;  her  burial,  187;  tomb  of,  186, 

187 
Catherine,   St.,  chapel   of,   i.  42,   ii. 

202 
Caxton,  i,  203,  ii.  15,  212,  399  note 
°  Cecil  family,  i.  261,  265,  266 
Celtic  races,  revival  of,  i.  197 
^Chamberlen,  Hugh,  li.  77 
*  Chambers,    Ephraim,   ii.    57    note, 

105 
°Chambers,  Sir  W.,  ii.  73 
Champion  at  coronations,  i.  83 
Channel  Row,  i.  8 
Chapel  of  St.  Benedict,  i.  280 
Chapel  of  St.  Edmund,  i.  263 
Chapel  of  St.  John,  St.  Michael,  and 
St.  Andrew,  i.  264 


CLY 

Chapel  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  i.  262 

Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas,  i.  262 

Cliapel  of  St.  Paul,  i.  263 

Chapel  of  St.  Faith,  ii.  206 

Chapter  House,  i.  34  note,  205,  ii. 
182-197;  first  scene  of  House  of 
Commons,  186  ;  Record  Office,  194 ; 
restoration  of,  182,  194 

t  Chardin,  li.  95 

Charles,  son  of  Charles  I.,  i.  219 

Charles  Edward,  Prince,  at  corona- 
tion of  George  III.,  i.  26 

Charles  1.,  coronation,  i.  104;  his  in- 
tended tomb,  224 ;  273  note ;  exe- 
cution of,  ii.  281,  402 

Charles  J  J.,  coronation,  i.  107-110; 
coronation  in  Scotland,  107  note  ; 
burial,  226  ;  wax  figure,  211  ;  vault 
of,  ii.  368,  369 

Charles  V.,  Emperor,  requiem  for 
him  in  the  Abbey,  i.  209 

^Chatham,  Earl,  i.  329,  ii.  220  note ; 
monument,  4  ;  wax  figure,  119; 
second  Earl,  4  note 

°Chaucer,  burial  of,  and  monument, 
ii.  15  ;  gravestone,  15 

Cheyney  Gate  Manor,  ii.  131 

Chiffinch,  Tom,  i.  301 

Chiswick,  house  there  belonging  to 
Westminster  School,  ii.  241,  290 

^Churchill,  Admiral,  i.  316 

•^Cibber,  Mrs,,  ii.  63 

Cinque  Ports,  privileges  of,  i.  68 

Circumspecte  Agatis,  statute,  ii.  190 

'Citizen  of  the  World,'  Goldsmith's, 
quoted,  i.  80  note,  259 

City  of  Westminster,  ii.  124,  249 

Civil  Wars,  close  of,  i.  196 

Claims  of  Windsor,  Chertsey,  and 
Westminster  for  the  burial  of 
Henry  VI.,  i.  191 

Clarendon,  Earl,  i.  296 

Clavering,  i.  33  note 

Claypole,  Elizabeth,  i.  220, 292;  vault 
of,  ii.  374,  375 

Cleveland,  Duke  of,  i.  226 

Clifford,  Sir  Thomas  and  Lady,  i.  252 

Cloisters,  the,  ii.  113,  129,  170 

Cloveshoe,  ii.  202  note 

°Clyde,  Lord,  i.  334 


INDEX. 


409 


COB 

fCobden,  Richard,  ii.  12 
Cock  Inn,  in  Tothill  Street,  i.22  note 
°Culchester,   William  of,  Abbot,  ii. 
134,  153;  conspiracy  of,  162 

Coleridge,  ii.  58 

College  or  Collegiate  Church  of  St. 
Peter,  Westminster,  i.  22;  estab- 
lishment of,  li.  234 

College  Hall,  ii.  156,  162,  23G,  306 

Collier,  nonjuring  divine,  ii.  146 

Colonies  of  rats,  li.  212  note 

Columba,  Pillow  of,  i.  75 

Commons,  House  of,  its  origin,  i. 
155,  ii.  186;  first  held  in  the  Chap- 
ter House,  187,  in  Refectury,  188; 
and  then  in  St.  Stephen's  Chapel, 
192 ;  removal  of  worship  of,  to  St. 
Margaret's  Church,  245 

Commonwealth,  the,  i.  220;  disinter- 
ment of  magnates  of,  2U0 

Communion  Table  in  Westminster 
Abbey  has  the  only  authoritative 
claim  to  the  name  of  'Altar,'  ii. 
357  note 

Compton,  ii.  319 

^Condvitt,  John,  ii.  76 

Confirmations,  ii.  343 

^Congreve,  William,  ii.  36 ;  monu- 
ment, 37,  105 

Consecration  of  Bishops  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  ii.  201  note  ;  after  the 
Reformation,  219  ;  after  the  Resto- 
ration, 287,  288 ;  in  modern  times, 
343 

Constable,  Sir  William,  i.  288 

Constance,  Council  of,  ii.  134 

Convocation  of  Canterbury,  ii.  313- 
328 

*  Cooke,  Dr.  B.,  ii.  70 

t  Coote,  Sir  Eyre,  i.  329 

Cornbury,  Lord,  i.  296  note 

^ Cornewall,  Captain,  i.  328 

Coronation,  its  idea  and  character,  i. 
49-52,  133 ;  service,  133 

Coronations,  connection  of,  with  the 
Abbey,  i.  53 

Coronations  of  early  English  kings, 
i.  49,  51 

Coronation  Oath,  i.  50,  57,  65,  98, 105, 
111  note,  112,  127,  132 


DAN 

Coronation  privileges  of  Abbots  and 

Deans  of  Westminster,  i.  58 
Coronation  Stone,  i.  71,  80;  represen- 
tation of,  73 
°Cottington,  Lord,  i.  281 
Cotton,  Sir  Robert,  ii.  195 
fCottrell,  Clement,  i.  299 
Councils  of  Westminster,  i,  42,  ii.  202 
*Courayer,  P.,  ii.  93,  94,  105 
Courcy,  Almeric  de,  ii.  85  note 
Courtney,  Rd.,  Bishoj)  of  Norwich, 

1.  250 
Covent  Garden,  li.  141 
Coventry,  Earl  of,  i.  277  note 
Coverdale,  Miles,  ii.  222 
°Cowley,  Abraham,  funeral,  ii.  23,  24 
Cowper,  li,  11,  337 
Coxe,  Dean  and  Bishop,  ii.  222,  231 
^Craggs,  his  grave,  monument,  and 

epitaph,  i.  305-308 
Cranmer,  Archbishop,  i.  94  ;   address 

of,  at  coronation  of  Edward  VI., 

97 
t  Creed,  Major,  i.  311,  333  note 
°Cretve,  Jane,  i.  324  note 
Cripple,  legend  of  the,  i.  27 
Crispin,  Abbot,  li.  129 
° Croft,  Dr.,  ii.  69 
Crokesley,   Abbot,   li.  129,  130  note, 

174 
Cromioell,    installation    of,    i.    107  ; 

death,    221  ;    burial,  222,  ii.   281  ; 

disinterment,  i.  223,  294;   interest 

in  the  Abbey,  286,  287 
Cromwell,  Elizabeth,  i.  220 
Crucifix  over  High  Altar,  ii.  136,206; 

in  North  Transept,  i.  248  note,  ii. 

206;  in  Cloister,  171 
Crull,  the  Antiquary,  ii.  29 
Cumberland,  Henry  Frederick,  Duke 

of  i.  234 
Ciimberland,  Richard,  ii.  55 
Cumberland,       William      Augustus, 

Duke  of,  1.  234 
Curtlington,  Abbot,  ii.  132 


D 


ALRYMPLE,  William,  ii.  89 
Dante,  Divina  Commedia   ofi 
i.  164 


410 


INDEX. 


BAR 

Darnley,    James,    natural     son     of 

James  II.,  ii.  382 
°Daubeney,  Sir  Charhs,  i.  251 
°Davenant.  Sir  W.,  ii.  22 
Wcvy,  Sir  Humphry,  ii.  79 
Dean  of  Westminster,   his  office,   i. 

58,  ii.  215-220 
Dean  of  the  Order  of  the  Bath,  i.  119 
Deans  enumerated,  ii.  2-39-312,  325- 

342 
Dean's  Yard,  ii.  161,  278  note,  283, 

307,  331 
Benne,  Colonel,  i.  288 
Deanerv    (see     Abbot's     Palace     or 
Place),  ii.  IGl,  218,  222,  225,  239, 
251;    plan  of,  273,  277,    278,  288, 
307,  308,  332 
iDe  Burgh,  John,  i  268 
De  Castro  Novo,  Sir  Full;  i.  248 
Declaration   of    Indulgence,  reading 

of,  ii.  291 
'  Dei  Gratia,'  origin  of,  i.  51 
Delaval,  Admiral,  i.  312  note,  ii.  87 
Delaval,  Lord,  ii.  87;  Lady,  87 
Denham,  ii.  24 
Dickens,  ii.  59 
Disbrowe,  Jane,  i.  220 
Discipline  of  Monks,  ii.  205 
Disinterment  of  the  Magnates  of  the 

Commonwealth,  i.  290 
*  Disney,  Colonel  (•  Duke  '),  ii.  92 
Dissolution  of  the  ^Monastery,  ii.  230 
Dolben,  Dean,  i.  293,  ii.289;  Bishop- 
rick  of   Roeliester   first   united   to 
Deanery,  289 ;  Archbishop  of  York, 
289 
Domesday  Book,  ii.  194 
Doncaster,  Charles,  Earl  of,  i.  226 
Dorislaus,  Isaac,  ii.  167,  171 
Dormitory  of  the  Monks,  ii.  175;  Old 
Dormiton'  of  the  School,  2-36 ;  New 
Dormitory,  304 
■/  °Drnyton,  Michael,  ii.  19 

°Diyden,  funeral,  grave,  and  monu- 
ment, ii.  25-28,  105 
Duck  Lane,  ii.  140 
°Dudhy,  Bishop  of  Durham,  ii.  131 
Dumouriez,  author  of  the  epitaph  on 

the  Duke  of  Montpensier,  i.  2-36 
Dundonald,  Earl  of,  i.  120, 332,  ii.  112 


EDW 

Dunfermline  Abbey  and  Palace,  i.  28, 

140  7iote 
Dunstan,    St.,   his    charter,  ii.   126; 

chapel  of,  160 
°Duppa,  Bishop,  i.  297,  297  note,  ii. 

243  note 
Diippa,  Sir  Thomas,  i.  298  note 
Duras,  Louis,    Earl   of    Feversham, 

ii.  96 
Durham,  Bishop  of,  ii.  345 
Duroure,  Scipio  and  *  Alexander,  i.  326 


EARLES,  Dean,  ii.  288 
Earls  Palatine,  i.  50  note 

Ebury,  i.  10,  ii.  128 

Edgar,  Foundation  of,  i.  14 

Edith,  Queen,  i.  147,  ii.  171 

Edmund  Crouchback,  i.  165 

Edmund,  St.,  Chapel  of,  i.  163 ;  plan 
of,  i.  263 

Edmund,  son  of  Henry  VII.,  i.  202 

Edric,  the  fisherman,  legend  of,  i.  24 

°Edward  the  Confessor:  his  appear- 
ance, i.  15,  and  characteristics,  16, 
17,  35,  39;  last  of  the  Saxons,  first 
of  the  Normans,  17,  18;  devotion 
to  St.  Peter,  21,  33,  37 ;  veneration 
for  St.  John  the  Evangelist,  34, 
37 ;  journey  to  Rome  to  obtain  con- 
firmation of  privileges,  ordered  by, 
29 ;  his  vow,  19,  29  ;  founder  and 
builder  of  the  Abbey,  22.  .35;  death 
and  burial,  37;  his  shrine,  built 
by  Henry  III.,  156;  despoiled  by 
Henry  VIII.,  205  ;  restored  by 
Mary,  205  ;  his  body  believed  to 
have  been  last  seen,  39  note  ;  trans- 
lation by  Henry  II.,  148 ;  by  Henry 
III.,  159;  veneration  for  his  re- 
mains, 148;  last  notice  of,  2.32;  pil- 
grims to,  ii.  208 
^Edward  I.,  coronation,  i.  71;  burial 
and  monument,  167;  opening  of 
tomb  of,  169,  i.  324 
Edward  II..  coronation,  i.  81;  waste- 
fulness of,  170 
°Edward  III.,  election  and  corona- 
tion, i.  82;  death,  monument,  and 
children,  172, 173 


INDEX. 


411 


/ 


EDW 
Edward  IV.,  coronation,  i.  87;  death, 

190;  his  courtiers,  i.  251 
Edward  V.,  i.  88;   his  birth,  ii.  155; 

burial,  i.  190 
Edward   VI.,  coronation,   i.  95;  his 
funeral,  206;   tomb  of,  208;    vault 
of,  ii.  387-391,  395 ;  destruction  of 
his  monument,  264 
*  Edwin,  first  Abbot,  i.   32,   ii.  128, 

182  note 
Egelric,  Bishop  of  Durham,  i.  248, 

ii.  207 
^Eleanor  of  Castile,  Queen,  corona- 
tion, i.  71;  death  and  tomb,  166 
Elia,  Lamb's,  quoted,  i.  334 
Elizabeth  of  Bohemia,  i.  225,  ii.  381 
<^Elizabetk  of  York,  Queen  of  Henry 

VII.,  i.  89;  death  of,  199 
°Elizabeth,  Queen,  coronation,  i.  102; 
death,  funeral,  tomb,  and  inscrip- 
tion, 210,  211;  her  courtiers,  255- 
271;   wax  figure,  ii.  116;   her  in- 
terest in  the  Abbej',232;  vault  of, 
384 
Elizabeth  "Woodville,   Queen  of  Ed- 
ward IV.,  takes  refuge  iifcthe  Sanc- 
tuary, ii.  155 
^Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Henry  VIE, 

i.  199 
Elizabethan  magnates,  i.  255 
Eliot,  Lady  Harriet,  ii.  4  note 
Elliot,  Sir  John,  ii.  145 
'Elms,'  the,  in  Dean's  Yard,  ii.  161 
oEltham,  John  of,  tomb,  i.  171,  ii. 

86 
England,  beginning  of  modem,  i.  198 
English,  growth  of,  ii.  205 
Entertainments    in     the    Jerusalem 

Chamber,  ii.  251 
Erasmus,  i.  203 
Essex,  Devereux,  Earl  of,  i.  285,  292; 

his  grave,  ii.  134  note 
''Esteney,  Abbot,  i.  266,  ii.  109, 134, 156 
Ethelgoda,  i.  14,  144,  ii.  182 
Evelyn,  quoted,  ii.  286,  293 
Evans,  Bishop  of  Bangor,  ii.  322 
°Extter,  Elizabeth,  Countess  of,  i.  265 
^Exeter,  Thomas  Cecil,  Earl  of,  i.  266 
Eve,  manor  and  stream  of,  i.  9,  248, 
"ii.  140 


GAT 

* PAIRBORNE,  Sir  P.,  i.  299 

Falcons  in  the  Abbey,  ii.  277 
note 

Falmouth,  Lord,  i.  298 
Fanelli,  sculptor,  i.  281  note 

°Fanes,  the  monument  of,  i.  271 

Fascet,  Abbot,  ii.  135 

Feclienham;  inscription  on  tomb  of 
Edward  III.,  i.  173  note;  last  Ab- 
bot, ii.  225,  229,  2-30 

Feilding  family,  i.  277  note 

°Ferne,  Bishop,  i.  297 

Ferrar,  Nicholas,  ordained  by  Laud, 
ii.  255 

Festival,  first  musical,  ii.  252;  Han- 
del, .335 

iF/blkes,  Martin,  ii.  76 

Fiddes,  Dr.,  ii.  309 

Fire  of  Houses  of  Parliament,  ii.  196 

Fire  of  London,  ii.  290 

Fire  in  the  Cloisters,  ii.  328 

Fisher,  Bishop,  i.  201,203,  ii.  254 

°Fleming,  Gene7'al,i.  32Q 

Fletcher,  ii.  17,  18  note 

Flete,  Prior,  ii.  135 

iFollett,  Sir  W.  W.,  ii.  219 

Fontevrault,  i.  145,  162 

*Foote,  Samuel,  ii.  65 

Ford,  Abbot,  i.  248 

Foreigners,  monuments  of,  ii.  93 

°Fox,  Charles  James,  ii.  6 

Frederick  II.,  Emperor,  i.  162 

Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  i.  234 

fFreind,  John,  physician,  ii.  78 

Freind,  Dr.  Robert,  Headmaster,  ii. 
29,  328 

°Freke  family,  ii.  91 

Friends,  monuments  of,  ii   91 

Froude,  quoted,  i.  90-94,  98,  99,  100 

Fulk  de  Castro  Novo,  i.  248 

°Fullerton,  Sir  James,  i.  292 


GALILEE,    the,    in    Westminster 
Palace,  ii.  164  note 
Garden  of  Infirmary  and  College,  ii. 

110,  184,  200,  2.30,  .304 
Garrick   and  his  widow,   ii.  65,   66 

note;  monument,  66 
Gatehouse,  the,  ii.  143,  145,  147-150 


412 


INDEX. 


GAT 

°Gay,  John,  ii.  38,  39;  his  epitaph, 

40,  91 
Gent,  his  adventure  in  the  College 

hall,  ii.  306,  307 
Geoffrey,  Abbot,  ii.  129 
George  of  Denmark,  Prince,  i.  230, 

ii.  369 
George     Williara,    Prince,    son    of 

George  II.,  i.  228  note 
George  I.,  coronation,  i.  116;  estab- 
lishment of   the    Knights   of    the 

Bath,  117;  death,  230 
George  II.,  coronation,  i.  121;   tomb, 

232;  funeral,  232;  vault  of,  ii.  367 
George  III.,  coronation,  i.  122;  buried 

at  Windsor,  234 
George  IV.,  coronation,  i.  126 
*Gervase  of  Blois,  ii.  129 
°Gethin,  Grace,  ii.  91 
^Gibbons,  Christopher,  ii.  68 
Gibbons,  Orlando,  ii.  252 
GIfford,  William,  ii.  57,  341 
*Gislebert,  Abbot,  ii.  129 
Glanville,  William,  bequest  of,  i.  328 

note 
°Gloucester,    Duke    of   (Thomas    of 

Woodsfock),   and  Duchess,  i.    179 

note,  ii.  35  note 
Gloucester,  William,  Duke  of,  i.  229 
Glj'nne,  anecdote  of,  when  at  West- 
minster School,  ii.  280;  Mrs.  Helen 

Ghjnne,  280  note 
*Godfrey,  Sir  Edmond  Berry,  i.  300 
°Godolphin,  Sidney,  Earl,  i.  308 
Godwin,  Bishop,  consecrated,  ii.  219 
Golden   Fleece,    High    Mass  of    the 

Order  of  the,  ii.  224 
f  Goldsmith,  death,  ii.  52;  his  epitaph, 

53;   quotations  from,  ,i.  80,  ii.  85, 

117 
°Golqfre,  Sir  John,  i.  249 
Goodenough,    Dr.,    Headmaster,    ii. 

342 
Good  Friday,  sermons  in  the  Chapel 

Roj'al,  ii.  334 
^Goodman,  Gabriel,  Dean,  i.  261,  ii. 

159,  234,  240,  241,  244 
^Grabe,  ii.  47 

Graham,  the  watchmaker,  ii.  81 
Granary,  the,  ii.  161 


HEN 

Grattan,  deathbed,  ii.  7,  8;  grave,  8 
Grave  of  an  unknown  person,  ii.  391 
t  Gray,  ii.  41 
Grey,  Frances,  Duchess  of  Suffolk,  i. 

253 
Grossetete,  Bishop,  1.69 
°Grote,  ii.  60 
'^ Guest,  General,  i.  325 


JJAKLTJYT,  ii.  42  note,  ii.  244 
note 

° Hales,  Stephen,  ii.  82 

"Halifax,  Charles  Montague,  Earl 
of,  1.  305 

"Halifax,  George  Montague,  Earl  of, 
i.  329 

"Halifax,  Saville,  Marquis  of,  i.  305 

Hamilton,  Colonel,  i.  298 

Hampden,  ii.  145 

"Handel,  i.  231,  ii.  70;  his  festival, 
ii.  335 

Hanover,  House  of,  i.  231 

jHanway,  Jonas,  ii.  11 

^Harbor'd,  Sir  C,  i.  299 

"Hardy,  Sir  Thomas  and  Lady,  i. 
327 

Hargrove,  General,  i.  326 

Harley,  Anna  Sophia,  ii.  88  note 

Harold  Harefoot,  i.  144 

Harold,  i.  37;  his  coronation,  53 

"Harpedon,  Sir  John,  i.  251 

"Harrison,  Admiral,  i.  332 

iHarvey,  Captain,  i.  331 

Haselrig,  Thomas,  i.  290  note 

f  Hastings,  Warren,  ii.  11;  cup  pre- 
sented by  and  others  to  Westmin- 
ster School,  337 

Hat,  reception  of  Wolsey's,  ii.  209 

Hatherley,  Lord,  ii.  355  note 

"Hattons,  the,  i.  271 

Havering  atte  Bower,  i.  34 

Haiverden,  i.  14,  15  note 

* Haickins,  Ernest,  ii.  344  note 

*  Hawkins,  Sir  John,  ii.  70  note 

Hawks  in  the  Abbey,  ii.  277 

"Hawle,  murder  of,  ii.  153 

Hay  Hill,  i.  9  note 

Henderson,  John,  ii.  66 

Henley,  Abbot,  ii.  132 


INDEX. 


413 


HEN 

Henrietta  Maria,  her  suite  enter- 
tained, ii.  252 

Henry  I.,  coronation,  i.  60 

Henry  II.,  coronation,  i.  63;  burial  at 
Fontevrault,  145 

Henry,  Prince,  son  of  Henry  II., 
coronation,  i.  63;  burial,  145 

'^Henry  III.,  his  two  coronations,  i. 
68,  69;  reign,  150;  rebuilding  of 
the  Abbey,  151-158;  his  character, 
151-154  ;  translates  the  bod\'  of  the 
Confessor,  159  ;  death  of,  161  ; 
tomb,  161;  burial  of  his  heart  at 
Fontevrault,  162  ;  his  children, 
163 

Henrj'  IV.,  election  and  coronation, 
i.85;  death,  179,  ii.  165 

° Henry  F.,  coronation,  i.  86;  'Con- 
version,' ii.  167;  death  and  burial, 
i.  181;  character,  181;  tomb,  182; 
saddle,  helmet,  statue,  184,  185;  his 
courtiers,  i.  250  ;  convention  of,  ii. 
190 

Henry  VI.,  coronation,  i.  87 ,  choice 
of  tomb,  189;  death,  189;  devo- 
tion to,  191  ;  controversy  as  to 
burial,  191 ;  chapel  of,  193";  ii.  395 
note 

°Henry  VII.,  coronation,  i.  89;  his 
devotion,  195;  his  death,  200;  his 
burial,  200;  his  effigy,  201;  his 
courtiers,  251 ;  Ms  chapel,  193-195  ; 
ii.  219,  249,  331,  341  ;  plan  of 
chapel,  i.  199;  vault  of,  ii.  396; 
account  of  vault,  395-397 

Henry  VIII.,  coronation,  i.  90;  his 
intended  tomb,  i.  204,  ii.  388  note 

Henry  of  Oatlands,  Duke  of  Glouces- 
ter, son  of  Charles  I.,  i.  225,  ii. 
380 

Henry,  Frederick,  Prince,  son  of 
James  I.,  i.  217,  ii.  380 

Henry,  Philip,  ii.  282 

Henry,  Prince,  son  of  Henry  VIII., 
i.  204 

Herbert,  Abbot, 

Herbert,  George,  ii.  129 

Herle,  rector  of  Winwick,  ii.  275 

Herle,  Margaret,  ii.  275  note 

Hermit  of  Worcester,  legend  of,  i.  23 


ma 

Hermits  in  Westminster,  i.  174,  ii. 
155,  169,  199 

°Herries,  Colonel,  i.  334 

Herschel,  ii.  78 

^Hertford,  Frances  Howard,  Coun- 
tess of,  i.  254 

Herfey,  Lord,  quoted,  i.  121 

Hervey,  Lord,  i.  272 

Hetherington  quoted,  ii.  275 

Heylin,  John,  ii.  338 

°Heylin,  Peter,  ii.  258,  283 

High  Steward  of  Westminster,  i.  261, 
ii.  125,  300 

Historical  Aisle,  ii.  41 

Holborn  Hill,  i.  6 

^Holland,  Lord,  ii.  7 

° Holies,  Frances,  i.  268  note 

° Holies,  Sir  G.,  i.  267 

Holmes,  i.  328 

Holvrood  Abbey  and  Palace,  i.  28, 
140 

Hooker,  on  Christian  worship,  quoted, 
ii.  362 

°Horneck,  Antony,  ii.  48 

°Horneck,  Captain  W.,  i.  327 

i Horner,  Francis,  ii.  12 

Horslej%  Dean  and  Bishop,  ii.  339 

House  of  Commons,  rise  of  the,  ii.  187 

Howard,  Frances,  Countess  of  Hert- 
ford, i.  254 

Howe,  Earl,  i.  331 

Howe,  Viscount,  i.  330 

Hudson,  Sir  Geoffrey,  ii.  146 

Hugh,  St.,  of  Lincoln,  li.  202  note, 
345 

*Hugolin,  i.  17,  27,  34 ;  his  tomb,  247, 
ii.  177 

*Humez,  Abbot,  ii.  129,  203 

°Hunsdon,  Lord,  i.  260 

°Hunter,  John,  ii.  21,  80 

\Hutt,  Captain,  i.  331 

Hyde,  Anne,  Duchess  of  York,  i.  228, 
li.  381 

Hyde  Manor,  ii.  141 


TMPEY,  Elijah,  ii.  337 
-L     Infirmar_v,  the,  ii.  200,  201 
Inglis,  Sir  R.  H.,  quoted,  i.  128 
Ingulph,  ii.  171 


414 


IKDEX. 


INN 
Innocents'  Day,  i.  35,  88 
Installation  of  the  Kings,  i.  71 
Ireland,  Dean,  ii.  57  note,  197,  3il, 

354 
Ireton,  ii.  167 

Island  of  Thorns,  the,  i.  7,  10 
o/s/j>,  Abbot,  i.  198,  266,  ii.  135,  158, 

245 
Islip,  Oxfordshire,  i.  28 


J     TAMES  I.,  coronation,  i.  103  ;  court 

^  of,  31;  funeral,  218,  ii.  254,  per- 
plexity respecting  grave  of,  and 
account  of  search  for,  247-396;  dis- 
covery of,  396 

James  II.,  coronation,  i.  110 ;  burial  at 
Paris,  228;  children  of,  228,  ii.381 

Jane,  ii.  319 

Jerusalem  Chamber,  ii.  34,  75,  163, 
164,  192, 251,  260,  270-321 ;  plan  of, 
273 

Jewel  House,  ii.  176,  197 

Jews,  sufferings  of  the,  i.  65 

Joan,  Queen,  crowned,  i.  86 

John,  King,  coronation,  i.  67;  buried 
at  Worcester,  145 

John  the  Baptist,  St.,  plan  of  chapel 
of,  1.  262 

John  the  Evangelist,  St.,  beloved  by 
Edward  the  Confessor,  i.  34,  35; 
legend  of  his  appearance,  34;  plan 
of  chapel  of,  264 

Johnson,  Dr.,  his  burial,  ii.  54;  crit- 
icism on  Craggs'  epitaph,  i.  307; 
proposes  epitaph  for  Newton,  ii.  75 
note  ;  writes  Goldsmith's  epitaph, 
53;  criticises  Kneller's  epitaph  by 
Pope,  72;  on  Watts,  51;  on  the  Gate- 
house, 147;  on  the  Abbey,  103;  on 
Cowley's  epitaph  by  Dean  Sprat,  24 

'^Johnson,   William,  ii.  23 
^    ^Jonson,  Ben,  ii.  20;   his  grave  and 
inscription,  23 

Julius  II.,  Pope,  ii.  98 


TREBLE,  ii.  58;  quoted,  106;   tab- 
^*-     let  of,  58 
^Kernble,  John  Philip,  ii.  67 


LEN 

iKempenfelt,  i.  332 

°Kendall,  Mary,  ii.  91 

Kennicott,  Dr.,  ii.  339 

° Kerry,  Lord  and  Lady,  ii.  89 

°Killiffrew,  General,  i.  309 

°Kiny,  Dr.  William,  ii.  49 

King's  Bench,  the,  i.  73 

King's  Evil,  i.  15,  158 

Kings,  plan  showing  position  of  tombs 

in  chapel  of  the,  i.  157 
King's  Scholars'  Pond,  i.  9,  ii.  141 
King's  Stone,  the,  i.  52 
Kingston-on-Thames,  i.  52  note 
King  Street,  ii.  142,  330 
Kitchin,  Bishop,  consecrated,  ii.  219 
■\Kneller,  Sir  Godfrey,  ii.  72 
Knightsbridge,  ii.  140  note 
*Knipe,  Headmaster,  ii.  328 
°Knollys,  Lady  Catherine,  i.  256,  268 
Kydyngton,  Abbot,  ii.  132 
Kyrton,  Abbot,  i.  266,  ii.  134 


LADIES  of  the  Tudor  Court,  i.  253 
Lady  Chapel,  the,  i.  69,  149,  ii. 

130,  202 
Lamb,  Charles,  quoted,  i.  334,  ii.  66 

note 
Lanfranc,  Archbishop,  i.  59,  ii.  202 
°Langham,  Abbot  and  Cardinal,  etc., 

i.  180,  ii.  132,  170 
Laud,  Prebendary  of  Westminster,  i. 

58  note,  103,  104,   105  ;  friend  of 

Dean  Neale,  ii.  244;  rival  of  Dean 

Williams,  255,  278 
*Lawrence,  Abbot,  i.  249 
Lavatory  of  monastery,  ii.  172 
*Lawes,  H.,  ii.  67 
jLawrence,  General,  i.  329 
*  Lawrence,  W.,  ii.  98 
Lecky's    Historj'     of     Rationalism, 

quoted,  ii.  61 
Le  Couvreur,  Adrienne,  ii.  61  note 
jLe  Neve,  Captain,  i.  298 
Lennox,  Charles,  son  of  Duchess  of 

Portsmouth,  i.  273 
Lennox,   Henry  Esme,   Duke  of,  i. 

213  note.  273,  ii.  383 
Lennox,  Margaret,  i.  212,  ii.  383 
Lennox  vault,  ii.  383 


INDEX. 


415 


LEO 

Leofric,  i.  28 

Le  Sueur,  i.  281  note 

^Lewis,  Sir  G.  C,  ii.  12 

Lewisham,  Abbot,  ii.  131 

Leycester,  Walter,  i.  248 

Liber  Regalis,  i.  82 

Library,  formation  of  the,  ii.  217,  222, 

2.34, "247;  Cotton's,  329 
Liddell,  Dr.,  Headmaster,  ii.  342 
Lightfoot,  Josepli,    Bishop   of    Dur- 
ham, ii.  345 
°Ligonier,  Lord,  i.  309  note 
Lilly,  imprisoned    in    Gatehouse,   ii. 
146;  adventure  of,  in  Cloisters,  256, 
257 
Lincoln,  President,  ii.  G5 
Linlithgow,  i.  34  nute 
*Lisler,  Jane,  ii.  88 
Littlington,  Abbot,  i.  82,  ii.  129  note, 

133, 137,  161, 164,  170 
Liturgy,  revision  of  the,  ii.  320 
Livingstone,  ii.  84 
tLoc'i-e,  Joseph,  ii.  84 
London,  Bishop  of,  i.  59,  ii.  126 
London,  physical  features  of,  i.  4 
Long  Acre,  ii.  141 

Long  Meg  of  Westminster,  ii.  132, 206 
Lord  High  Stewardship,  i.  52;  aboli- 
tion of,  70 
Louis,  St.,  i.  152,  166 
Louise,  Queen  of  Louis  XVIJL,  i. 

237  note 
Lovelace,  ii.  145 
Lucas,  Richard,  ii.  297 
Lucius,  Church  of,i.  12;  King,  ii.  159 
Ludlow,  i.  34 

Luther's  '  Table  Talk,'  ii.  146 
Lyell,  Sir  C,  ii.  78 
Lyndwood,  Bishop,  ii.  97 
Lytlon,  Bulwer,  ii.  59 


H/IACA  ULA  Y,  Lord,  quoted,  i.  109, 

-''*      110,    114,    150,    227,   228,    270 

no<e,ii.  3,  4,  34,  35,  57;   his  grave, 

59 
^Macaulay,  Zachary,  ii.  12 
i  Mackintosh,  Sir  James,  ii.  7 
Mncpherson,  James,  ii.  55 
Mackworth,  Colonel,  i.  288 


MAT 

Magna  Charta,  excommunication  of 

transgressors  of,  ii.  204 
Magnates  of  the  Commonwealth,  i.284 
^Malcolm,  Sir  John,  ii.  10 
*Mandeville,  Geoffrey  and  Adelaide, 

i.  248 
^Manners,  Lord  Robert,  i.  331 
° Mansfield,  Lord,  li.  5 
Margaret,  St.,  Chapel,  or  Church  of, 
1.  .32;  painted  window  in,  203,  272, 
ii.  143,  145,  212,  269 
Margaret  of  Anjou,  coronation,  i.  87 
°  Margaret  Lennox,  Countess  of  Rich- 
mond, i.  212 
°Margaret  of  Richmond,  i.  89,  90  ; 

her'death,  201,  ii.  160 
"" Margaret  of  York,  i.  190 
°Markham,  'Headmaster,   afterwards 

Archbishop  of  York,  ii.  338 
Marlborough,   Duke    of,    at    Monk's 
funeral,  i.  293 ;  death  and  funeral, 
314 ;  removal  of,  to  Blenheim,  316 
Marlborough,  Earl  of,  i.  298 
Marlborough,  Henrietta,  Duchess  of, 

i.  308 
Marlborough,   Sarah,   Duchess  of,  i. 

115,-308,  31.3,  315,  318,  ii.  -30 
Marriages  in  the  Abbey,  i.  138,  ii. 

343 
Marshall,  Stephen,  i.  285,  290  note, 

ii.  45,  267 
Marten,  Henry,  ii.  265 
Martin,  St.,  in-the-Fields,  ii.  141 
Martin,  St.,  Le  Grand,  ii.  142,  150 
Mary  /.,  coronation,  i.  99;  attends 
Mass  in  the  Abbey,  ii.  228;  grave, 
i.  209 
Mary  IL,  coronation,  i.  113;  funeral, 

229 ;  wax  figure,  ii.  118,  368 
°Mary  Queen  oj  Scots,  her  tomb,  i. 
213  ;    miracles    wrought    by    her 
bones,  214  ;  removal  of  body  of, 
from  Peterborough,  u.  378;   vault 
of,  378.  379 
Mary  of  Orange,  i.  225,  ii.  381 
Mary,  daughter  of  James  L,  i.  216 
Marylebone,  i.  9 
UVason,  Rev.  J.,  ii.  41 
]\Iatilda,  Queen,  coronation,  i.  60 
Matthew  Paris,  i.  160 


416 


INDEX. 


MAU 

Maude,    Queen,    coronation,    i.   62  ; 

burial,  147 
May,  Thos.,  burial  and  disinterment, 

i.  290  note,  ii.  22  note,  45 
°Mead,  Richard,  ii.  79 
Meldrum,  Colonel,  i.  290  note 
Mellitus,  first  Bishop  of  London,  i. 

24,  25 
Mendip,  Lord,  ii.  50  note 
Men  of  letters,  ii.  52 
° Methuen,  John,  ii.  12  note 
Metropolitan  and   Metropolitical,  ii. 

218  note 
'^Mexborouffh,  Lady,  ii.  87 
Michael,  St.,  plan  of  chapel  of,  i.  264 
'^Middlesex,  Earl  of,  i.  280 
Middle  Ages,  close  of,  ii.  102 
Millbank,  ii.  1.39 
'^Milling,  Abbot,  ii.  134 
Milnian,  Dean,  ii.  11 
^Milton,  ii.  30,  102  note,  349 
'  Minster  of  tlie  West,'  i.  14 
Miracles  at   Chapel   of  St.  Peter,  i. 

27;  at  shrine  of  St.  Edward,  149; 

at  tomb  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots, 

214 
Monastery,   the,  ii.  123;  possessions 

of,  139;"  dissolution  of,  217 
°Monk,  Bishop  J .  H.,  ii.  50  note 
^Monh,  Bishop,  Nicholas,  brother  of 

General  Monk,  i.  296 
Monk,  Christopher,   son  of  General 

Monk,  i.  296 
^Monk,  George,  burial,  i.  293;  efBgj', 

295,  ii.  117;  his  cap,  i.295;  monu- 
ment, 296;  vault,  ii.  117,  371 
Monks,  records  of  the,  ii.  136,  137 
Monstrelet,  quoted,  ii.  167,  168 
^Montagu,  Captain,  i.  331 
'^Montague.     See  Halifax 
Montandre,  Marquis  <le,  i.  236 
Monteigne,  Dean,  ii.  245 
Montfort,  Simon  de,  i.  163 
°Montpensier,  Duke  of  i.  236 
Monuments,   changes    of  taste  with 

regard  to  style  of,  ii.  106 
Monuments,  gradual  growth  of  the, 

ii.  100 
Monuments  of  the  j'oung,  ii.  88 
Moray,  Sir  Robert,  ii.  80 


OLD 

More,  Sir  Thomas,  imprisoned  in  the 

Abbot's  House,  ii.  169 
°Morland,  Sir  S.,  wives  of  ii.  81 
Mosaic  pavement,  ii.  131 
°Mountrath,  Lord  and  Lady,  i.  303 

note 
Musicians,  tombs  of,  ii.  70,  71 
Muskerry,  Viscount,  i.  298 

NAVE,  i.  180;  plan  of,  310,  ii.  36, 
73,  133,  135,  360 
Neale,   Dean,   ii.  244;   succession  of 

preferment,  244  note 
Neate  Manor,  ii.  141 
Nelson,  his  saying  on  the  Abbey,  ii. 

119  ;  death  of,  i.  332  ;  waxwork 

figure,  ii.  119  and  note 
°Neville,  Dorothy,  i.  266 
°Neiocastle,  John  Holies,  Duke  of,  i. 

268,  303 
°Neiccastle,  Margaret,  Duchess  of,  i. 

302 
'^Newcastle,   W.  Cavendish,  Duke  of, 

i.  301 
Newton,   John,   on    Sheffield's    epi- 
taph, i.  320 
°Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  gravestone  and 

monument,  ii.  75,  76 
Nicholas,  St.,  plan  of  chapel  of,  i.  262 
Nicoll,  Headmaster,  ii.  337 
"Nightingale,  Lady,  ii.  90,  108  note 
Noel,  H.,\.  270  note 
Nonconformists  in  the  Abbey,  i.  287, 

ii.  105,  265-281,  358 
°Normanton,  Lord,  ii.  50  note 
iNorris family,  i.  209,  270 
North,  John,  Prebendary,  ii.  294 
North  Transept,  plan  of,  ii.  2 
"Northumberland  family,    vault   of, 

ii.  86 
Northumberland,    Elizabeth    Percy, 

Duchess  of,  ii.  86 
"Norton  family,  tomb  of,  ii.  91 
Norwich,  Abbot,  ii.  134 
Nowell,  Headmaster,  ii.  241 

'/^FFICEfor  Consecrating  Churches 
^^  and  Churchj-ards,'  ii.  324  note 
Old  Bourne,  i.  6 


INDEX. 


417 


OLD 

Olclfield,  3frs.,  grave  of,  ii.  62 

'  Oid  Windsor,'  i.  28 

'  Orchard,'  the,  i.  19 

Ordinations,  ii.  255,  343 

Organ  room,  dispute  in  the,  ii.  322 

Ormond,  Duke  and  Duchess  of,  i. 
295 

Ormond  vault,  i.  295,  ii.  373 

Osbaldiston.  Headmaster  and  Preb- 
endary, ii.  272 

Ossory,  Earl  oJ\  i.  294 

°Outram,  Sir  James,  i.  334 

°Out.ram,  Prebendary,  ii.  45,  81,  83 

Owen,  John,  Dean  of  Christchurch, 
i.  287,  ii.  281 

Owen,  Professor,  i.  10  note 

°Owen,  Sir  Thomas,  i.  2G0 

°Oxford,  Anne  Vere,  Countess  of,  i. 
265 

Oxford,  connection  of  Westminster 
School  with  Christchurch,  ii.  237 


PACTUM  SERVA,'   inscription, 
i.  168 
Page,  Dr.,  Headmaster,  ii.  342 
Painted  Chamber,  i.  29 
Paintings  in  the  Chapter  House,  ii. 

183,  184,  189;  in  the  Abbey,  208 
Palace  Yard,  i.  29 
Faleolugus,  Theodore,  his  family,  ii. 

94,  and  note 
Palgrave,  Sir  Francis,  ii.  195 
°Palmerston,  Lord,  ii.  10 
Pancake   in  Westminster  School,  ii. 

65 
iPaoli,  Pascal,  ii.  95,  104 
Papillon,  Abbot,  ii.  129 
Parker,  Archbishop,  ii.  195 
Parliament  Office,  ii.  198 
°Pa7'r,  Thomas,  ii.  92 
°Parry,  Sir  Thomas,  i.  252  note 
Patrick,     Symon,     Prebendary,     ii. 

294 
Paul,  St.,  plan  of  chapel  of,  i.  263 
Paul's,   St.,   Cathedral,    i.   11,  ii.  3, 

102  note,  120,  218  note,  314 
iPearce,  Zachary,  Dean  and  Bishop, 

i.  324,  ii.  108,  3.32 
^Pecksall,  Sir  R.,i.  256 


PRA 

^Peel,  Sir  R.,  ii.  10 

°Pelham's  secretary,  i.  325 

Pepys  quoted,  i.  108-110,  297  note, 
ii.  285,  288  note;  imprisoned  in 
the  Gatehouse,  146 

^Perceval,  ii.  7 

Peter,  St.,  i.  21-27;  favourite  saint  of 
Edward  the  Confessor,  19,  35,  37, 
174 ;  '  robbing  Peter  to  pay  Paul,' 
ii.  220 

Peter's  Eye  or  Island,  i.  22 

'  Peter's  keys  and  Paul's  doctrine,'  i. 
87,  105 

'  Peter  the  Roman  citizen,'  i.  154 

Pew,  the  Lord  Keeper's,  i.  175  note, 
ii.  259,  282 

^PhiUppa,  Queen  of  Edward  III.,  i. 
82.  172 

\ Philips,  John,  ii.  29 

Pickering,  keeper  of  Gatehouse,  ii. 
147 

Piers  Plowman's  Vision,  ii.  189 

Pigeons  in  the  Abbey,  ii.  277 

Pilgrim  (John  the  Evangelist),  legend 
of  the,  i.  33 

Pilgrimages,  ii.  208 

^Pitt,  William,  burial  of,  ii.  5,  monu- 
ment, 7 

Play,  the  Westminster,  ii.  242,  346 

Plymouth,  Earl  of,  i.  226 

Poet's  Corner,  plan  of,  ii.  13 

Pole,  Cardinal,  attends  Mass  in  the 
Abbev,  ii.  228 

Pollock^  Sir  George,  i.  334 

Pope,  his  burial  and  tablet  at  Twick- 
enham, ii.  40;  epitaph  on  himself 
at  Twickenham,  40  :  on  Kneller, 
with  Johnson's  criticism,  72,  on 
Newton,  75,  on  Cragg,  with  John- 
son's criticism,  i.  307,  on  Rowe,  ii. 
32,  on  General  Withers,  91,  on  Drj-- 
den,  27;  on  Freind's  epitaph,  78 
note;  i.  313,  316,  ii.  5  note,  27. 
Epistles  of,  quoted,  38  note 

°Popham,i.'28H;  his  monument,  291 

Popish  plot.  ii.  146 

Portland,  Duke  of,  i.  304 

Postard,  Abbot,  ii.  129 

Praemunire,  statute  of,  ii.  190 

Prayer  Book,  revision  of  the,  ii.  318 


418 


INDEX. 


PRE 

Prebendaries  of  Westminster  not  in 

Anglican  orders,  ii.  245 
Presbyterian  preachers,  ii.  266 
Prichard,  Hannali,  ii.63 
Prince  Imperial,  son  of  Napoleon  III., 

i.  238 
°Pi-ingle,  ii.  79 
°Prior,  Mattheio,  ii.  38;  epigram  on 

Atterbury,  i.  322 
Prior's  Life  of  Burke  quoted,  i.  241, 

li.  89  note,  102  note 
Priors  and  Subpriors,  the,  ii.  169 
Prison,  the,  ii.  143 
Private  monuments,  ii.  85 
Protectorate,  the,  i.  220 
'Provence'  roses  (Provins),  i.  165 
Provisions,  Statute  of,  ii.  190 
"Puckering,  Sir  John,  i.  259,  ii.  135 

note 
Pulpits  of  the  Abbey,  ii.  259,  360 
Pulteney,  Earl  of  Bath,  i.  324 
*Pidteney,  David,  i.  324  nnte 
oPurcell,  II.,  ii.  09,  70,  160  note 
Puritan   changes   in  the   Abbey,    ii. 

263 
Puy,  Le,  i.  25 
Pym,  burial  of,  i.  284  ;  disinterment, 

290 
Pyx,  chapel  of  the,  ii.  177,  194 
Pyx,  the,  ii.  198  note 


QUEENS-CONSORT,  coronations 
of,  i.  51  note 


t  JDAFFLES,  Sir  Stamford,  ii.  10 

-"'     Raglan,  Lord,  i.  335 
Ralegh,  Sir  Walter,  i.  272,  ii.  143 
Recumbent  effigies,  ii.  320 
Redmayne,  Master  of  Trinity,  ii.  45 

note 
Refectory,  the,  ii.  173, 188 
Reformation   in   the  Abbey,   i.  205  ; 

acts  of,  ii.  191 
Regalia,  i.  56,  57,  ii.  181,  265 
Reims,  consecration  of  Abbey  of  St. 

Remy,  i.  19 
Relics  at  Westminster,  i.  36,  174, 183, 

189,  205,  li.  180,  206, 267, 279 


RUS 
Rennell,  the  geographer,  ii.  84 
Restoration,  the,  i.  224 
Restoration,  chiefs  of  the,  i.  293 
Revestry,  ii.  179,  206 
Revision  of  the  Authorized  Version, 

ii.  320 
Revision  of  the  Prayer  Book,  ii.  318 
Ricliard  I.,  his  two  coronations,  i.  64, 
67;   his  heart  at  Rouen,   145;  his 
body  at  Fontevrault,  145 
^Richard  II.,  coronation,  i.  82;  por- 
trait, 175;  tomb,  177;  his  courtiers, 
249;    his  devotion  to   the   Abbey, 
174,  ii.  155 
Richard  III.,  coronation,  i.  88 
Richard  of  Wendover,  i.  24S 
°Richards(in,  Sir  Thomas,  i.  283 
°Richmond  and  Lennox,  Lewis  Stu- 
art, Duke  of,  i.  272,  ii.  383  note 
Richmond,  Charles  Lennox,  Duke  of, 
natural  son  of  Charles  II.,  i.  226 
note,  273 
Richmond,  Duchess  of,  died  1639,  i. 

273;  wax  figure,  ii.  118 
Richmond,  Esme  Stuart,  Duke  of,  i. 

213  note,  ii.  383 
Richmond,  George,  portrait  of  Rich- 
ard IL,  restored  by,  i.  175 
Ricnla,  sister  of  Sebert,  i.  14,  ii.  182 
Robbery  of  Treasury,  ii.  178 
'  Robbing  Peter  to  pay  Paul,'  ii.  220 
Uioberts\Secretsiry  of  Pelham),  i.  325 
°Robinson,Sir  Thomas,  i.  325,  325  note 
°Robsart,  Lewis,  i.  250,  ii.  82  note 
Rochester,  diocese  of,  united  to  Dean- 
ery of  Westminster,  ii.  289;  sev- 
ered from,  341 
Roman  Catholics  buried  in  the  Ab- 
bey, ii.  319  note 
Roubiliac,  i.  267,  327,  ii.  71  note,  90 
Rouen,  i.  145 

Rowe,  John,  i.  290,  ii.  266  note,  285 
"^Rowe,  Nicholas,  ii.  32 
Royal  exiles,  i.  236 
Royal  supremacy,  recorded  on  coffin- 
plate  of  Edwa'rd  VL,  ii.  389 
Runnv-Mede,  i.  28  note 
Rupert,  Prince,  i.  226,  ii.  382 
•^Russell,  Elizabeth,  her  christening 
death,  and  monument,  i.  258 


INDEX. 


419 


RUS 

° Russell,  Lord  John,  i.  257 
°Ruthdl,  Bishop,  i.  252 
Rymer,  Thomas,  ii.  195 


CACRAMENT,  legend  of  the,  i.  27 
^     St.  Albans,  Duke  of,  natural  sou 

of  Charles  II.,  i.  226  note 
°St.  Evremond,  ii.  33,  319 
°St.  John,  Lady  Catherine,  i.  271 
St.  Saviour's  Chapel,  ii.  219 
St.  Stephen's  Chapel,  ii.  193  nnte.ll^ 
° Salisbury,  Elizabeth  Cecil,  Countess 

of,  i.  265 
Salwey,  Humphrey,  i.  290  7iote 
Sanctuary   of  Westminster,   ii.  149- 

158,  355 
° Sanderson,  Sir  W.,  ii.  44  note 
Sandwich,  Montagu,  Earl  of,  i.  293 
Santa  Croce  at  Florence,  i.  243 
■^ Saumarez,  i.  328 
Savage,  Richard,  ii.  146 
Schomberg,  Duke  of,  i.  304 
School,  Westminster,  i.  44;  rights  of 
scholars,   58,  112   note,  129   note  ; 
first  beginnings,   ii.  171;   founded 
by  Henry  VIII.  218;  refounded  by 
Elizabeth,    233-238  ;    schoolroom, 
115;  benefactions  to  by  Dean  Wil- 
liams, 248;  interest  of  Laud  in,  255 
note ;   under  the   Commonwealth, 
276.     See  Andrewes,  Atterbury 
Scone,  Stone  of,  i.  73-80 
°Scot,  Grace,  i.  292 
Scott,  Sir  Gilbert,  ii.  73 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  i.  3,  67,  322  note,  ii. 

6,  226,  373  note 
'  Screen '  of  the  Abbey,  ii.  359 
°Sebert,  King,  i.  21,  i44;  Church  of, 

13;graveof,  13, 144,  ii.  182 
Sedgwick,  Adam,  ii.  78 
Selden,  ii.  268,  275 
Servants,  monuments  of,  ii.  97 
Services  of  the  Abbey,  ii.  240,  356 
Seven  Acres,  ii.  141 
Seven  Sleepers,  legend  of  the,  i.  33 
Seymour,  Anne,  Duchess  of  Somer- 
set, i.  254 
Seymour,  Lady  Jane,  i.  254 
Shackle,  ii.  152 


STA 

jShadivell.  ii.  28 

tShakspeare,  i.  78,  80  note,  94,  176, 

182,  ii.   17,  18,  31,  05,    112,    134, 

162 
Wharp,  Granville,  ii.  11,  56,  105 
Shaving  the  monks,  ii.  172 
Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire, 

i.   316;    grave   and  epitaph,   317; 

vault,  ii.  378 
Sheridan,  R.  B.,  ii.  55 
*Shield,  William,  ii.  70 
° Shovel,  Sir  Clo-udesley ,  i.  311 
iSiddons,  Mrs.,  ii.  67 
Sidnej',  Frances,  Countess  of  Sussex, 

i.  255 
Skelton,  poet,  ii.  158,  315 
Smalridge,  Dr.,  ii.  29,  30 
Smiles,  ii.  83  note 
*Smith,  Thomas,  ii.  89 
'  Solomon's  Porch,'  i.  174,  ii.  302 
°Somerset,  Anne  Seymour,  Duchess 

of,  i.  254 
Somerset,  Protector,  i.  205,  ii.  221 
°Somerset,  Sarah  Alston,  Duchess  of, 

ii.  80 
°Sophia,   daughter  of    James    I.,    i. 

215 
°South,  Robert,  ii.  48,  281,  297 
iSouthey,  Robert,  ii.  58 
°Spanheim,  i.  236,  ii.  93,  104 
Speaker  of  House  of  Commons,  the 

first,  ii.  189  note 
Spectator,  quotations  from,  i.  79,  135, 

174,   179  note,  250,  259,  265,  309, 

311,  ii.  47,  81,  99,  160,  280,  301 
Spelman,  Sir  Henry,  li.  44 
°Spenser,    Edmond,   his    grave    and 
■     monument,  ii.  17;    inscription,  17, 

112 
'  Spies  of  the  Cloister,'  ii.  170 
Spottiswoode,  Archbishop,  i.  107  note, 

ii.  42  note 
Spragge,  Sir  E.,  i.  298 
*  Sprat,  Dean,  ii.  24,  25,  30,  106 
^Stanhope  family,   monuments    of, 

ii.  74 
Stanley,  Dean,  i.  239 
Stanley,  Lady  Augusta,  i.  239 
'^Stanley,  Sir  Humphrey,  i.  251 
Stapleton,  Sir  Robert,  ii,  23 


420 


INDEX. 


Statutes,  ii.  190 

°Staunton,  Sir  G.,  ii.  10 

Steele,  ii.  33;  Mrs.  Steele,  33 

*Stei(/err,  of  Berne,  ii.  96 

Stephen,  Kinjr,  coronation,  i.  G2  ; 
buried  at  Favershain,  145 

°Steplienson,  Bobert,  his  grave  and 
window,  ii.  83 

° Stepney,  George,  ii.  28 

Stewardship,  Lord  High,  i.  52;  abol- 
ished by  Henry  III.,  70 

Stewart,  Richard,  Dean,  ii.  270 

Stigand,  Archbishop,  i.  36,  37,  53,  54 

Stone,  Nicholas,  sculptor,  i.  275 

Stonehenge,  i.  52 

Stones,  sacred,  i.  71,  72,  73 

Strathmore,  Countess  of,  ii.  87 

'^Strathmore,  Lady,  ii.  87 

Strode,  Sir  W.,  i.  285 

Strong,  the  Independent,  i.  290  note, 
ii.  45,  266 

Stuart,  Arabella,  i.  217,  ii.  379 

Stuart,  Charles,  i.  213 

Submission,  Act  of,  ii.  192 

'^Suffolk,  Frances  Grey,  Duchess  of, 
i."  253 

Supremacy,  Act  of.  ii.  192 

° Sussex,  Frances  Sidney,  Countess 
of,  i.  255 

Sword  and  Shield  of  State,  i.  82,  173 


rpALBOTS,  the,  i.  271 

Tapestry  of  .Jerusalem  Chamber, 

i.  112  note,  ii.  218  note 
Taylor,  Jeremv,  quoted,  i.  138 
t  Taylor,  Sir  Robert,  ii.  73 
"Telford,  ii.  83 
Temple  Church,   i.   160,   ii.   52,  245 

note 
°Temple,  Sir  William,  and  Family, 

i.  304 
Tenison,  Archbishop,  ii.  324 
Tennyson,  quoted,  ii.  215 
Terence  plays  at  Westminster  School, 

founder  of,  ii.  242 
^Thackeray,  W.  M.,  bust  of,  ii.  59 
Thames,  the,  i.  4 
'  The  King's  Bench,'  i.  72 
Thieving  Lane,  ii.  150 


TTN 

Thirlby,  Bishop  of  Westminster,  i. 

96,  ii.  218 
Thirlwall,  Bishop,  ii.  60 
Thirty-nine  Articles,  ii.  316 
t  Thomas,  Dean  and  Bishop,  ii.  334 
^Thomas  of  Woodstock,  i.  179  note, 

ii.  35  710 te 
f  Thomson,  James,  ii.  41 
*Thorndyke,  Herbert,  ii.  48 
Thorndyke,  John,  ii.  49  note 
Thorn  Ey,  i.  10 
Thorns,  Isle  of,  i.  7,  11,  ii.  362 
*  Thornton,  Bonnell,  ii.  56  note 
Th_vnne,  Lord  John,  ii.  354 
°Thynne,  Thomas,  i.  300 
^Thymic,  William,  i.  271 
Tickell,  quoted,  i.  241 
fTierney,  ii.  7 

Tillotson,  Archbishop,  ii.  48, 105 
Toledo,  inscription  at,  ii.  352  note 
Tombs,  Royal,  in  Westminster  Ab- 
bey, peculiarities  of,  i.  138 
Tombs,  plan  of,  as  they  appeared  in 

1509,  i.  198 
°Tompion,  the  watchmaker,  ii.  81 
Torregiano,  i.  201,  264,  387,  388 
Tosti,"i.  29 

Tothill  Fields,  ii.  140,  341 
Tounson,  Dean,  ii.  143,  145,  244 
Tower  of  London,  i.  54;  coronation 

processions  from,  83 
Townsend,  i.  329  note 
Transept,  North,  plan  of,  ii.  2 
Translation  of  the  English-  Bible,  ii. 

.326 
Treasury,  Royal,  ii.  170;  robbery  of, 

178 
Trench,  Dean,  ii.  354 
°Triplett,  Dr.,  Prebendary,  ii.  45 
Trussel,  William,  i.  248 
'  Tu  autem  '  service,  ii.  174 
Tudor,  Owen,  i.  197  note,  ii.  137, 158 
Tumult  in  the  Cloisters,  ii.  335 
Turton,  Dean,  ii.  342 
Tidss,  i.  290  note,  ii.  45,  208,  270 
^Twysden,   Lieut.   Heneage,   i.  311; 

John  and  Josiah,  311 
Tyburn,  a  stream,  i.  9,  ii.  140;  the 

chief  regicides  buried  at,  i.  223 
Tynchare,  Philip,  i.  242 


INDEX. 


421 


TTR 
Tyrconnell,  Lady,  ii.  87 
^Tyrrell,  Admiral,  i.  328,  ii.  108  wo^e 


UNCERTAIN  distribution  of  hon- 
ours, ii.  101 
Ushborne  and  his  fishpond,  ii.  199 
Ussher,   Archbishop,   i.  291,  ii,  245 
note,  258 


°Y'^LENCE,   Aymer   de,    i.  157, 

'      171,  3.30 
°Valence,  William  de,  i.  164 
'  Vaste  Moustier,'  ii.  168  note 
Vaughan,  Professor,  quoted,  i.  62, 141 
Vaughan,  Thomas,  i.  251 
Vere,  Anne,  Countess  of  Oxford,  i. 

265 
°Vere,  Sir  Francis,  i.  266 
t  V^ernon,  Admiral,  i.  328 

*  Vertxie,  G.,  ii.  73 

Victoria,  Queen,  coronation  of,  i.  130 

Villiers,  Famil.v,  i.  274-277 

°Villiers,  Sir  G.,  i.  274 

°Vincent,  Dean,  i.  237  note,  331  note, 
48  ;  Bishoprick  of  Rochester  sep- 
arated from  Deanery,  ii.  341 

Vincent  Square,  ii.  341 

'  Vineyard,'  the,  ii.  139 

Virgin,  girdle  of  the,  i.  36  note,  149 
note 

*  Vitalls,  Abbot,  ii.  129 
Voltaire,  ii.  61  note,  75 


°  T^ABE,  Marshal,  monument  of, 

^     i.  326 
t  Wager,  i.  328 
Wager,  his  character,  i.  328 
Wake,  Colonel,  anecdote  of,  when  at 

Westminster  School,  ii.  280 
Wake,  Archbishop,  ii.  280  note,  324 
o  Waldeby,  Robert,  i.  250 
Waller,  the  poet,  quoted,  i.  138,  ii. 

244 
Walpole,  Horace,  quoted,  i.  121-124, 

134,  170,  232,  233,  ii.  220  note,  352 
Walpole,  Sir  Robert,  Earl  of  Orford, 

i.  323 


WIL 

t  Waljwle,  Lady,  her  statue,  i.  323 
Walter,  Abbot,  ii.  129 
°  Waltham,  John  of,  i.  249 
Waltham  Abbey,  i.  30  note 
Walton,  Izaak,  his  monogram,  ii.  43 
Ware,  Abbot,  ii.  47,  122,  131 
t  Warren,  Sir  Peter,  i.  328 
Warren,  Bishop,  and  wife,  ii.  50  7iote 
Washington  Irving,  quoted,  ii.  121, 

234 
Watchmakers,  graves  of  two,  ii.  81 
Water  supply,  ii.  141 
t  Watson,  Admiral,  i.  329 
t  Watt,  James,  ii.  82;  inscription  on 

monument,  83  note 
t  Watts,  Dr.,  ii.  51,  106 
Wat  Tyler,  i.  84;  outrage  of,  ii.  154 
Waxwork  effigies,  note  on,  ii.  114 
Webster,  ii.  361  note 
Wenlock,  Abbot,  ii.  131 
Wentworth,  Lord,  funeral  of,  ii.  221 
Wesley,  S.,  ii.  313 
Wesleys,  the,  i.  230,  ii.  51,  313 
Wesley's  Journal  quoted,  ii.  89  note, 

108  note 
Western  Towers,  ii.  331 
t  West  Temple,  i.  328 
Westminster,  Bishop  of,  i.  96,  ii.  218 
Westminster  Bridge,  ii.  330 
Westminster,  City  of,  ii.  218  note 
Westminster  Communion,  ii.  327 
Westminster  Conference,  temp.  Mary, 

ii.  229 
Westminster  Confession,  ii.  268,  269 
Westminster,  or  Westbury,  in  Wor- 
cestershire, ii.  202  note 
Westminster  Palace,  i.  28,  43, 139,  ii. 

123 
Weston,  Dean,  ii.  223 
t  Wetenall,  ii.  79 
°  Wharton,  Henry,  ii.  50,  105 
'  Whigs'  Corner,'  the,  ii.  7 
Whipping  the  monks,  ii.  185,  209 
White  Hm,. badge  of 'RkhardXi.,  ;. 

175  .   '. ,;   ;,,',/    ;  '  ;   W':    \  ; 
Whitewashing,   the    Abbey  exempt 

from,  ii.  35i^       .^^.>,,,> 

WHittirgton,  architect  or  tie Vi^v^,  iJ 

lec  ■/    :,.','.'./'.    ', 

Wilberforce,  Dean,  ii.  125  note,  342 


422 


INDEX. 


WIL 

o  Wilberforce,  W.,  ii.  12,  106 
°  Witcocks,  Dean,  ii.  330 
Wilcocks,  Joseph,  '  the  blessed  here- 
tic,' ii.  332 
Wild,  George,  i.  292 
°  William  of   Colchester,    Abbot,   ii. 

134,  153;  his  conspiracy,  1G2 
William  the  Conqueror:  coronation, 

1.  49,  53;  buried  at  Caen,  144 
William   Rufus  :    coronation,    i.   60; 

buried  at  Winchester,  145 
William  J 1 1.  :    coronation,    i.   113; 

grave,  227  ;    wax  figure,   ii.   118, 

368,  370 
William  IV.,  coronation,  i.  130 
Williams,  Dean  and  Archbishop,  i. 

219,  ii.  203,  245-262,  383  note 
Williamson,  Dr.,  Headmaster,  ii.  342 
Williamson,  Sir  Joseph,  i.  304 
Willis,  Dr.,  ii.  77  note 
°  Wilson,  Sir  Robert,  i.  334 
°  Winchester,  Marchioness  of,\.  259 
Windsor,  i.  19,  206;  origin  of  Castle, 

ii.  128;  royal  burials  at,  i.  141,  190, 

191,  205  note,  205,  235 
Windsor,  Sir  John,  i.  251 
Windsor,  St.  George's  Chapel,  i.  191 
t  Winteringham,  ii.  79 
Wither,  George,  the  poet,  ii.  265 
*  Withers,  General,  W.  91 
t  Wolfe,   General,   monument  of,  i. 

330,  ii.  109 


YOU 

Wolfstan,  Bishop,  i.  42;  miracle  of 
his  crozier,  42,  60,  ii.  202 

Wolsey,  attacked  by  Skelton,  ii.  158; 
Legatine  Court  of,  191;  reception 
of  his  Hat,  209,  210  note;  con- 
venes the  Convocation  of  York  to 
London,  314 

*Woodfall,  Elizabeth,  ii.  93 

Woodstock,  Thomas  of,  i.  179  note,  ii. 
35  note 

t  Woodward,  John,  ii.  77 

t  Woollett,  William,  ii.  73 

Wordsworth,  Christopher,  ii.  345, 
355  note,  359  note 

t  Wordsworth,  William,  ii.  58 

Worsley,  General,  i.  288;  probable 
grave  of,  ii.  393 

Wragg,  W.,  i.  332  note 

Wren,  Sir  Christoplier,  ii.  332 

t  Wyatt,  James,  ii.  73 


YEOMEN  of  the  Guard,  i.  90 
York  Dynasty,  withdrawal  of 
burials  of,  to  Windsor,  i.  190 
York,  Edward,  Duke  of,  i.  234 
°York,  Philii)pa,  Duchess  of,  i.   179 

note 
York,  Archbishop  of,  his  rights,  i.  59, 

63,  ii.  156,  203 
Young,  Dr.,  ii.  79 


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